Hit and Run
by lifelesslyndsey
Summary: After crashing her car in the middle of no where,Bella is left on the ground alone, once again, in the rain, crying after another painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life. Rated M BxA
1. Chapter 1

**Hit and Run**

**Author : Lifeless Lyndsey**

**Summary : ****After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life**.

**Pairing: Bella and Alistair**

**Warning: M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know.**

**Word Count: 1,534**

**Beta: VampishVixen - she did this not even knowing what I had sent her, bless the girl.**

**Disclaimer: I own nearly nothing , not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!**

Bella

!#$%

It was raining in England. It was raining in Forks. It was always raining.

I laughed at the irony as the rain drops splashed against the spider-webbed crack encompassing my windshield.

No matter where I was, the rain would find me.

Weakly, I scrambled for my phone, finding nothing but the shattered remains of my brand new iPhone, smashed to shiny, white pieces in what was once the passenger seat. To my right, my door was wrapped snug around a tree in a ditch off the side of the road, and I was alone in the middle of midnight country-side England.

I hated it here already.

Reaching my aching arms, ignoring the shocking pains of protest radiating down my right side, I weakly released the seat belt, groaning as it slid slowly across my body with a weak, drawn out _zip. _It was a long crawl across the compact car, to the passenger seat, tiny pieces of glass biting into the soft flesh of my palms, and slicing strips into the knees of my jeans. The hinges of the door were pinned in place by the impact, and I was forced to crawl through the blown-out window, crumpling to a heap on the ground outside the car, my head resting against the mutilated front fender. I let my head fall into my hands and kept myself from crying; in vain, of course.

Hit and run. Story of my life.

Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying, after a painful and crushing blow to my life. The physicality of the incidents meant little; my mind in all its wayward wanderings, recognized the similarities. Why the hell was it always raining?

With more self-determination than I ever showed in that forest back in Forks, I picked myself up from the wreckage and walked the lonely road.

!#$%

A ram-shackled old farmhouse stood before me, peeling white paint glowing blue in the half-moon light. There was a light on in an upstairs room, giving me some sense of hope. My body ached; muscles burning, bones screaming, blood drying on my skin, a red smear across my cheek from where my head hit the window. I was a mess, looking like a monster movie victim ten seconds from being caught and strung up by her internal organs.

Irony ruled my life, and she was a bitch.

I knocked on the door, my feeble rap shaking the thin wood. I could hear steps, light as a feather, creaking floor boards protesting at the mistreatment. This house was old, slanted and dilapidated, but it was the only one I'd come across in my post-crash two mile hike down English back-country. When the steps paused, I wondered if the inhabitants of the home had even heard me, raising my hand to knock again.

But the fragile door swung open as I made to knock again, my hand poised to strike, and I gasped, fist faltering in mid air, as I took in the face peering out from the half-foot opening. His red eyes didn't seem so brilliant in the darkness, but I knew better; knew the way the moon caught his diamond skin, understood the rumble in his chest. I knew, and I stumbled back. And that too, I knew; I knew better than to imagine I might escape.

"Who are you?" he growled, door flying open, and I was yet again presented to another vampire, but he was different. With his red eyes, his matted hair, and a fearsome scowl so set in place, I imagined it to be a permanent fixture on his face. "Who are you? Who sent you? What, is it the Volturi? How did they find me? Speak girl! Speak!" His frigid satin fingers closed around my wrist, tight enough to nearly shatter bones. I could feel his thumb press against the bite, my pulse slamming against his fingerprint.

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry in the face of my death yet again. Jesus fuck, what was wrong with me? What the hell had I done to find myself at the wrong end of myths and fairy tails, where everything tries to eat me?

I am not ashamed to say it; I pissed myself on that front porch, caught in the clutches of a mother fucking monster. I pissed myself, soaked my shoes, and found some small satisfaction in the fact that he wasn't wearing shoes, that he was now standing in my pee.

"Vol...volturi?" I parroted, my voice an earthquake of tremors. Volturi. Volturi. I remembered them mentioned, vaguely, and in passing. "I... the vampire king guy?"

"King." The vampire spat out, his venom coated teeth glinting menacingly as he brought me closer, much closer, to his beautiful, terrifying face. "He is no king of mine."

Pride. Pride was the last emotion I felt, for snark hadn't left me in the face of danger as I mumbled weakly, "You and me both buddy."

And then as the fair maiden is known to do, I promptly passed out; my last thought a wonder as to whether Mr. Vampire would bother to catch me before I fell into my own piss.

Chivalry wasn't dead after all.

!#$%

**Alistair**

She dropped abruptly, having held up in the face of all my fury for far longer then was to be expected. She was terrified, as humans should be, every part of her body screaming to flee, but I couldn't let her go, and I couldn't eat her; not without knowing who she was and why she was standing on my door step wearing the mark of a vampire on her wrist like one might a charm bracelet. Though, such marking, no, a branding, as one might do with cattle, did not seem out of sorts when considering the scum that was the Volturi.

I caught her, hauling her into the house towards what I had discovered was the master bedroom. For all that the house was old, it was well appointed by human standards, and comfortably lived in.

It made my skin itch.

I hadn't yet had the chance to dispose of Mr. Gracelow from his kitchen-quarters, where I had made him my evening meal, when she appeared, knocking with less force then a day old kitten on the door. What on earth had drawn me to answer, I will never know; but one can never be too careful, and better to know your witnesses than not. If she was to be a problem, I knew I could eat her too.

Never in my one thousand years had I imagined it would be a human, bitten and still a human, standing at the door looking worse for the weather and bleeding to boot. The Volturi were not known for their good treatment of pets, and I was not wrong to assume she was part of their menagerie. They weren't against sending humans after me, I was sure. Though I could not fathom how they might have found me, I hadn't been in town a day past.

She crumpled where she stood, but not before pissing on herself and calling that righteous bastard a king. Now I had pee on my feet, and an unconscious girl on my hands, on what should have been an easy countryside eat-and-run.

Mr. Gracelow was not ill-equipped for taking prisoners, though I doubted very much he meant kitchen chairs and clothesline to tie up young girls. Or at least, I hadn't seen anything of the kind to raise suspicion. One could never know or understand the ways of isolated humans. And he was rather isolated, here out in the country.

The thought only served to deepen my suspicions on the girl. What on earth was she doing here, and at such a late hour? I could not help but consider the possibilities that there would be more to follow her, and perhaps not of the human kind. Could there be vampires to come?

Of course there could. There always could. I hadn't lived as long as I had thinking otherwise.

I perched myself on a battered wooden stool that tipped to the right, but held me none the less, and waited for her awakening. The bedroom was dark, nothing but long slats of moon light, and shadows between the blinds, making lines across the bed. It began with a twitch, wrists itching against the course confines of the rope, and then her head snapped up, umber eyes not unlike the color of cinnamon blinking up at me in rapid succession.

"Who are you?" I asked without preamble. I wasn't one to play games when my continued existence was in question. And it was always in question. "Answer me, girl."

"Bella," she said shortly, her glaring brown eyes lifted in defiance, in challenge. "Who are you?"

She was cocky, brimming with misplaced courage, and I was forced to wonder yet again if she was expecting a rescue. However, I sensed no one in a proximity that could be considered a threat, and I took her courage for what it was. A bluff.

"My name," I said quietly, leaning forward on my stool to close the distance between myself and my captive, "is Alistair."

**A/N: **So. This is the very first Bella/Alistair fic on FFnet, and I am pretty much so anxious I want to vomit. Once Bitten, Twice Shy still has post priority. Until OBTS ends, this story will have smaller chapters, and probably not post as often. But I am excited!


	2. Chapter 2

**Hit and Run Chapter 2/?**

Author : Lifeless Lyndsey

Summary : After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life.

Pairing: Bella and Alistair

Warning: M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know.

Word Count: not quite 3.5 k

Beta: BellaFlan - I wasn't beta-cheating. I swear. oh...thats a lie.

**Disclaimer: I own nearly nothing , not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!**

**Oh hey, I have a banner. **

**http:/twitpic(dot)com/1vdblg/full**

**the dot? It's a dot. A period to be precise.**

**A/N **The opening response to this story was prenominal, thank you all so much for taking the time to give it a chance. Double thanks for those of you who are back for more. 1000 Internet cookies for you. I don't want to ride the coat-tails of Once Bitten, Twice Shy, and all my other stories. So lets all cross our fingers and hope this story holds up on it's own merit, eh?

_**Previously on Hit and Run**_

_"Who are you?" I asked without preamble. I wasn't one to play games when my continued existence was in question. And it was always in question. "Answer me, girl."_

_"Bella," she said shortly, her glaring brown eyes lifted in defiance, in challenge. "Who are you?"_

_She was cocky, brimming with misplaced courage, and I was forced to wonder yet again if she was expecting a rescue. However, I sensed no one in a proximity that could be considered a threat, and I took her courage for what it was. A bluff._

_"My name," I said quietly, leaning forward on my stool to close the distance between myself and my captive, "is Alistair."_

**!#$%^&**

The game of questions was beginning to grate on my nerves. An hour had passed, and I had yet to ferret out any secrets from the girl. Worse yet, I was beginning to believe her to be just an unfortunate human. Unfortunate or not, I could not overlook her knowledge.

"Who are you working for?"

"I told you, Eastbound Books International," the girl, Bella, bit out, glaring up at me through her lashes. "I write reviews on tourist towns. I'm traveling across England, reviewing popular locations for a publishing company that writes travel guides. I've never met the Volturi!"

"What are you doing here? Were you sent to follow me?" I asked, nearly ignoring her answer entirely. I felt filthy in her presence, my solitude infiltrated by a mere human. It made my skin crawl. I wanted nothing more than to run and leave this situation behind.

She grunted, huffing out a hard breath that sent a loose lock of hair fluttering about her face, before clinging to the sticky smear of blood on cheek. "How on earth could I follow a vampire without him knowing? Don't you think you would have noticed? I'm just a fucking girl! My name's Bella, I'm twenty-three, I work for Eastbound Books International, and I don't know the Volturi and I don't know you! I told you all of this! I told you I crashed my car! I came here looking for a phone. This is the only house for miles!"

"How can I believe you when you so clearly know of my kind? Only those humans who are employed by the Volturi are permitted to know of our kind, and rarely do they live long." I watched her expression harden, eyes snapping up to meet mine. "You've been bitten, but someone saved you. Why are you so worth saving? Why weren't you killed, or left to turn? What's your worth, girl?"

"I knew a vampire," she replied quietly, her eyes flickering downward. "He was part of a coven... in America."

I leaned back in my teetering stool, eyeing her carefully for any sign of a lie. Her heart was steadily thumping hard inside her chest; her breath was even; she wasn't perspiring more than average. She was either a talented liar, or telling the truth. I wouldn't take the chance, though. "There are seven covens in the Americas, would you care to elaborate?"

"Do you know them all?" She spat, struggling as the rope bit into her skin."Why did you even bother tying me up? I couldn't get away if I wanted to!"

"Less effort on my part, should you foolishly consider running," I informed her coolly, my head falling to the side. She was injured still, blood trickling slowly from a small head wound. It was inviting, and had I not just eaten, I might have been more tempted. As it was, her scent was enticing, but I wouldn't kill her until I had my answers. "And yes, I do happen to know all seven of the covens in the Americas, if not personally, then by reputation. So, I encourage you to relinquish details if you wish for me to believe your story is true."

She sighed, hands falling slack against the restraints. "Does it matter? You're not going to let me go one way or the other. You're going to kill me, so why don't you just kill me, and stop drawing this shit out. I'm too damn tired of your kind fucking with me."

"Can't kill you, I'm afraid, without the necessary answers. You know far too much, and I cannot be sure are not working for the Volturi scum," I growled, feeling my lips curl back. She grimaced, and I continued. "Humans are liars, it is just their nature. I cannot possibly kill you if you work for them. I know better than to bring the wrath of those bastards down on me. And if you are not, I would very much like to know which coven would impart upon you such delicate information and leave you breathing."

She bristled, grinding her teeth grinding together. "I won't tell you; I won't let you hurt them."

Ignoring her desperate deceleration entirely, I crouched forward, elbows propped on the knees of my heavily mended trousers, and cupped my chin in my hands. "There is a an Amazonian coven in South America comprised of three vampires: Zafrina, Senna and Kachiri, but I don't think this is the coven you speak of. Perhaps you speak of the Coven that dances on the boarder of Mexico and Texas, lead by a vampire named Maria? No... the Denali Coven, with patriarch Eleazar Denali, perhaps..."

Even as the words escaped my mouth, her heart stuttered into her chest, missing a beat, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes dropped to her lap, and her body tensed. Interesting…

I smirked darkly, leaning closer till I was looking down upon her, "The Denali coven it is then, yes? I heard that Eleazar's daughters liked human playthings, but I had assumed they meant toys of the male persuasion. No matter..."

"Not the Denali's," she replied stiffly, turning her face away from me. "Though I have heard of them, yeah; Succubi, right?"

"Then who bit you, girl, and don't you lie to me. Your beating heart will out you and I will know, so don't you lie to me!" I snapped, grabbing her chin and lifting her face, my eyes burning into hers. "Who bit you?"

"A nomad, his name was James, and he was a tracker. He hunted me down, and...and caught me." She growled, yanking her chin out of my loose grip. I grabbed her face again, pinning her chin between my thumb and index finger.

"And?" I asked roughly, shaking her face in my hand. "What then, girl? What then? He bit you and?"

"I lived!" She bellowed, "A...a vampire from the coven...saved me. He sucked the venom out! What do you want from me?"

I released her chin from my grip roughly, jerking her head back, "The truth, human. What made you so worthy of saving? Why bother? You're just another animal to feed from, just another pathetic weak creature. What made you worth the effort, little girl?"

"He loved me!"

I blinked, staring at her for a long moment, watching the shadows cast upon her face by the dim moonlight dance patterns across her face in the dark room. She spoke again quietly, "He loved me, and he saved me, you bastard."

"Who loved you?"

She laughed a sad laugh, broken and hollow, "It doesn't matter. He doesn't love me anymore."

I found myself believing her, if for nothing else, because of the distant echo of pain in her voice. It spoke of abandonment, something I understood. But believing or no, I would have to kill her. She was a danger to my kind, and more importantly, me. I could not allow her to live since I had now associated with her, and if Aro ever found her, she'd be a liability. He'd have the head of any vampire who let her walk without a blink of his bastard eye. I wanted no part in that. She was right, she'd have to die.

But I still wanted my answers. Someone would have to pay for this mistake.

"Then I can hardly believe he ever did, girl. A vampire's love is a near immortal thing, never leaving, and rarely fading. If he could so easily leave you behind, don't delude yourself that his love was real. You, girl, were a pet."

She licked her lips, her head rising slowly, and her cinnamon eyes flashing once again with a surprising amount of defiance. "Fuck you," she growled, spitting a mouth full of blood-tinged saliva in my face. "Fuck you and fuck off. I'm not going to tell you!"

Wiping her spit off my cheek with the back of my hand, I laughed quietly, "Fiery, I like that; defiant, angry. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

"I'm not going to tell you so just shut up!" she sneered, baring her teeth. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut the fuck up! Kill me if you're gonna kill me. You shouldn't play with your food!"

"Why is he so important, this vampire? He didn't care enough to keep you, and yet you fight to keep his name safe. Why?" I asked curiously, watching my captive carefully as the angry flush of her cheeks faded, her skin becoming paler still, and the red smudge of blood seemingly brighter in contrast.

"You'll kill him, won't you?" She asked, looking up at me in earnest. "You'll find him and kill him for telling. That's why you want to know?"

"Yes," I admitted easily. "He has knowingly endangered us, sharing the nature of our kind with a human. Vampires have very few rules to adhere to, and yet he has broken the very first one. A crime against our kind that cannot go unpunished."

"He didn't tell me, I guessed," she informed me spitefully, eyes narrowing.

"But he confirmed it," I retorted angrily, growing quickly tired of her attitude. She was beneath me, one ring down on the food chain, and I refused to be talked back to by my food. "He left you knowing, that much is enough to land him a death sentence, and now you taint my presence, endangering me. You say you guessed? Vampires? How did you come to the conclusion? How did you come to realize that vampires are real?"

She leaned back against the chair, scowl firm in place on her pretty face. "It's everywhere; legends and myths. It's just a matter of believing. There's plenty of legends about vampires in every culture, and not just fucked up modern day pop-culture. Ancient Egyptians believed the goddess Sekhmet drank blood to keep her youth. The Hebrew religion depicts Lilith drinking the blood of babies." She licked her lips, staring off into the darkness as she continued to speak, her voice taking on a soothing lecture-like tone that was at once authoritative and understanding. She had done her research, and that disturbed me. Not only did she know the legend, she knew the truth. "Italians believed in the Stregoni Benefici: vampires that drank from humans to sustain but not kill. All of it led me to wonder, but it was the Quileute legend of the Cold Ones that convinced me."

"Quileute?" I parroted, "Native Americans, no? And how did you come to learn about their legends?"

"I knew a boy…a friend of mine; a Quileute native. He told me stories of his tribe, not knowing the truth behind them..." she frowned, "…not at the time anyway. I'm not going to tell you anything else, so do yourself a favor, and just kill me, Alistair"

The sound of my name echoing in the room unnerved me. Few knew my name, and fewer had the opportunity to say it. Such a strange thing to be unnerved by, but it had been a very long time since I last heard it used; much longer than I would ever care to admit. I stared at her in silence, contemplating my course of action. Nodding once, more to myself than the girl, I came to my decision. "Have you any evidence to validate your story? If what you say is true, then I should find your car some miles down the road?" If what she said was true, I'd kill her when I got back. And if it wasn't, I'd...I'd have to wait. If she was a Volturi house pet, I was sure they would come for her.

"Wrapped around a tree like a Christmas bow," she said snarkily, with a hard smirk.

Rising from the stool in one smooth blur , I ghosted to the door, but not before patting her head with haughty condescension, and whispering in her ear, a short demand..

"Stay."

**!#$%^&**

It was as she said it would be. I found the car easily; tracking required little effort at the best of times, especially with the aid of her lingering scent painting a trail down the country side. The car was a picture of destruction, twisted fragments of metal littering the ground. Both side windows, as well as much of the windshield had been shattered to pieces, and the scent of her blood still clung to the leather interior. And it was only her scent that I smelled, no scent of a vampire, or even another human.

I tore open the trunk lid, pushing aside a matching set of red suitcases. Beside the suit cases were books, specifically travel guides with matching blue and yellow covers, Bella Swan printed in neat white lettering in the list of credits on the inside jacket. It all validated her story, and I grabbed the larger of the suitcases, before slamming the trunk shut roughly; metal smashing against metal.

The suitcase's contents were to be expected, crammed full of various articles clothing, her passport, a black case containing a computer of some sort, and other menial things taken on travel. I sifted through the bag carefully, searching for any evidence of a lie, but found nothing. Swiftly, I zipped it shut, and leaned it against the gnarled front fender of the vehicle.

The passenger side door was pinned closed by the impact of whatever had hit her. Leaning through the gaping window, I inspected the interior of the vehicle, finding nothing but blood, shattered glass, and unidentifiable bits of white plastic. A sticker glared from the dashboard, Herts Auto Rental, written in red block letters.

I pried open the center console with my fingers, fishing out a small brown leather wallet. Its contents were meager: forty-seven dollars, an Oregon issued driver's license that read Isabella M. Swan, four different credit cards, and a photo of herself and a man whom I assumed to be her father, with matching brown eyes and dark hair. He had his arm wrapped around her middle, finger caught on the front pocket of her hooded sweat shirt. She looked younger, if only by a few years. They were standing in front of a little brick building, leaning against the front end of what looked like a police vehicle. I studied the little picture, taking in the man's brown uniform, and the brick building, the words Forks Police Department neatly displayed above the building's glass front double doors.

The wallet fell from my hands, impact echoing in the night.

Forks.

**Bella**

**!#$%^&**

I couldn't be sure he would believe me. I couldn't even be sure he had really left. It didn't matter in the end, he was going to kill me.

He seemed different, though, I couldn't quite pinpoint what it was exactly. He was older, his accent faint but discernible, an English lilt that seemed out of place in current-day England, but it was his damn eyes that made him seem old. Behind those endless depths of red, he knew things, and I could see that his paranoia wasn't unfounded. I understood very little about the Volturi, just a name and a story, but this vampire, this Alistair, he hated them. He was afraid of them.

I couldn't help but wonder why.

A noise pulled me out of my reverie. The Venetian blinds that hung against the single bedroom window swayed in the midnight breeze that seeped through the cracks, and rattled against the window pane. I twitched against my bindings, unnerved by the noise after the long moment spent in silence. Fear and adrenalin shot through my veins like amphetamines. I needed to haul ass and I needed to do it pronto. This was my only chance to escape, not that it was much of a chance, but I'd take it nonetheless. My head ached, my leg hurt, and although I was sure he could find me, I had to try.

The minutes ticked by in excruciating silence, save for the wind, as I struggled against my bindings. He knew what he was doing, when he bound me, wrapping both my wrists and ankles in an elaborate weave of knots. Motherfucking Boy Scout vampire! I worked my thumb into the heart of the knot, loosening it slowly, working my wrist through the double-wrapped rope. It seemed as if forever had passed when I managed to free the first hand, and then the other. I rubbed my sore, bruised and chaffed wrists as the ropes fell to the floor with a muffled thump.

Quickly un-binding my ankles, I slipped out of the dark bedroom and through the house. Any person insane enough to live this far out of the way had to have a car or something. But there was nothing, no car, not even a bicycle. The garage was empty, save years worth of clutter, and I felt tears welling in my eyes.

But I refused to be a victim without a fight, and I searched the garage frantically for anything that could help me. The workbench was covered in tools and broken electronics, but it was the wrenches or the screwdrivers that caught my eye. I didn't have a snowball's chance in hell, but I'd be damned if I wasn't going down with a fight.

I was half way through the house when he returned, so close to the back door, and yet so far away. There was no making a break for it, not where vampires were concerned. He was just another dead bastard with superpowers, and I was sick of it. Without the element of surprise, I had no real advantage.

I was going down and I knew it. No, I wasn't the least bit surprised my demise would be at the hands of a goddamn vampire. Hand. Mouth. Whatever. So I was going to die, but I was going to do my damnedest to take one of those vamp bastards down with me. I pressed myself against the wall in the bedroom, to the left of the door, and waited for him to follow my scent. My only regret would be dying in piss pants.

The house was silent, but I wasn't fooled. I could feel him drawing nearer by an unknown sense that had me attuned to their kind. The hair tingled on my neck, and spiraling bolts of fear radiated down my spine. My heart pounded so hard in my chest that I could hear it as I waited, breath held in my lungs.

I wasn't prepared, of course, for the hand that grabbed me, and the face that materialized as if from thin air; he wasn't there and then he was, his hand wrapped around my throat almost gently. His eyes were brilliant and menacing, catching the moonlight and glaring down at me.

"Hiding?" he asked, the corners of his lips curling up to a glittering smile, and he had dimples, two of them, one for each stubble covered cheek.

"Hardly," I replied quietly, looking at him through my lashes. My left hand wrapped around his wrist, an instinctual reaction to being nearly strangled. But my right hand held steadfast to the pilfered propane torch, thumb pressing down on the orange plastic ignite button. It hissed to life, propane spilling out into the air, the click echoing in the room as it burst out brilliant blue flames between our bodies.

I could feel the heat of the blaze licking at my skin as his shirt caught fire. He growled, rushing backwards, hands ripping at the burning fabric, plastic buttons melting against his cold skin. The stench was awful. I watched, torch falling to the hardwood floor with a loud thunk. Time stopped for me then, or rather slowed, each action and reaction occurring in slow-motion. I should have ran when I had the chance, as futile as it would have been, but I couldn't fucking move. My feet were cemented to the floor, back pressed against the wall. I was frozen in place like a voyeuristic statue watching the dead die. Every second passing by seemed to take hours and as he fought to snuff out the blaze, a rumpled photo fell from his shirt-cuff, like a snow flake fluttering to the floor. I snatched it before it hit the ground; my nerves were shot to hell, the quick rush of adrenalin still ruling my instincts.

It was a tattered old black and white photo, edges torn and wrinkled, of Alastair himself standing beside another vampire, equally young and beautiful... and familiar.

_"Carlisle?"_

**A/N To Be Continued...if any one even reads it. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Hit and Run**

Author : Lifelesslyndsey

Summary : After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life.

Pairing: Bella and Alistair

Warning: M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know.

Word Count: 2,228

Beta: VampishVixen - she's returned to me at last.

Disclaimer: I own nearly nothing , not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!

**A/N The response to this story has been astronomically awesome. Seriously, I hope that you guys continue to molest me via reviews. It's nice to know what you think, even if you are totally and unashamedly baffled, intrigued, confused, anxious, etcetera, etcetera… **

_**However, you know, if you think the story sucks ball sacks, I... don't want to hear from you. It's mean, and it hurts my feelings, and you're sort of an asshole for calling Alistair retarded and Bella weird, and telling for me my story wasn't that good, because Bella and Alistair weren't in love yet. And telling me that I shouldn't let your comment get into my head. **_

**But you know what? It didn't. So here's chapter three. Guess what, they're still not in love yet. They actually, probably sort of hate each other. **

_**Previously on Hit and Run**_

_Every second passing by seemed to take hours and as he fought to snuff out the blaze, a rumpled photo fell from his shirt-cuff, like a snow flake fluttering to the floor. I snatched it before it hit the ground; my nerves were shot to hell, the quick rush of adrenalin still ruling my instincts._

_It was a tattered old black and white photo, edges torn and wrinkled, of Alistair himself standing beside another vampire, equally young and beautiful... and familiar._

_"Carlisle?"_

**Alistair**

**!#$%^&**

The fibers of my shirt were burning, sticking to my skin in growing holes, crispy rings of charred flesh beneath the smoking, polyester fabric. It _bloody fucking_ hurt and the growls tore up through my throat as I ripped away the melting, smoldering fabric, flames licking at my skin, bursting blue where they met with my venom-tainted blood.

The acrid smell of burning hair filled my nostrils, and I rubbed away the singed stubble on my jaw. My hair was burning; while, slower than a human's would, it posed no imminent threat. It was the shirt that concerned me, as my skin melted beneath the heat in painful patches where the fire burned hottest, mainly my chest and shoulder.

With arms stretched, I peeled the unidentifiable remnants of my shirt and jacket from my skin, dropping them to the floor in a smoking heap. Little blue flames flickered, racing across my skin in search of something to burn, but my cold, hard, resilient skin was stubborn, refusing to catch.

Instead, the flames seared across my skin; melting through the flesh to reveal opened rings of blackish-red muscle and tendons. I licked up my hand, coating my palm in cool, silver venom, before smoothing it over one of the gaping wounds. It hissed and sizzled in protest, as the venom soothed away the burn, gut wrenching pain firing through my body as it repaired itself.

The_ bitch _had set me on fire.

Quickly, I worked to heal the deeper gouges, muscle twisted up and charred. The venom seeped into my flesh, re-growing my skin in painstakingly slow flesh-colored webs, stretching taught across my chest. The new, venom-healed skin itched and burned, and I growled, turning a feral eye on the girl.

"You set me on fire," I growled, advancing on her small, shaking form. I kicked the propane torch away, one hand slamming through the wall in sheer anger, plaster and drywall showering her left shoulder. "You fucking set me on fire! I could kill you; I've killed bigger men for less." Freeing my hand from the wall I planted it firmly above the hole. Like a strike of a cobra, I balled my hand roughly in the front of her coat. She choked on a gasp as I lifted her up against the wall, her toes dangling inches off the floor, forcing her to face me at eye level.

My fingers inched to wrap around her throat and squeeze the life out of her. Deep seeded instincts screamed that I should do so. She had fucking set me on fire! She had tried to kill me, and I did not take kindly to threats upon my person. Her attempt hadn't even been in vain. Had it been my head she set on fire, and not my shirt, I'd still be burning. I'd be dead.

"I...I..." she stammered, looking at me with terrified eyes, her pupils blown wide in the dark light. "It should have...doesn't fire..."

"Kill vampires?" I laughed darkly, my face moving closer to hers. Her breath blew warm and stagnant across my face, tangy and warm; slightly blood scented, as if she had bitten her tongue. "You have to dismember them first. Otherwise, they can put the fire out."

She blinked rapidly, head slamming into her chest, and then mine as I pinned her harder against the wall. She stammered, gasping, short breaths escaping her mouth in fast, warm puffs. The force of my balled fist kept her chest from rising to its fullest, but I was hardly inhibiting her breathing enough to be concerned. "I...had...had to try," she managed to force out, licking her dry, chapped lips.

"I admire the will to live, perhaps even more than the average vampire," I admitted with a harsh laugh, "but not at the expense of my life, little girl."

"Had to try," she repeated, her frail, tiny hands wrapping around my wrist, too small to circle them fully. She was a whelp of a thing, waif-like and sickly, but her eyes burned brightly, portraying a strength that defied her delicate human shell.

The girl had seen things.

I plucked the photo from her hand, caught between her palm and my wrist. Pinching it with my thumb and middle finger, I tapped my forefinger against Carlisle's grainy photographic form. "What is your affiliation with this man?" I asked sharply, speaking more in a growl then any real tone of voice. It was rare that I spoke, never in excess, and my voice was some what rusty with disuse.

Her heart stuttered against my balled fist, her eye lashes fluttering against her cheek, glancing at the photo, stammering a quiet reply, "Car...Carlisle. Dr. Cullen. Carlisle Cullen."

"And your affiliation? How are you associated with Carlisle, girl?" I repeated, forcing myself from rattling her too harshly, lest I shake the brain from her skull. Fragile things, humans.

The girl swallowed hard, throat working, mouth dry. "'S'vampire. He...he's the...leader of his Coven. But he's more then that...he's the father...of his family."

Uncurling my fingers slowly, I let the girl slip down the wall, feet bumping the floor roughly. Breathless, her knees gave, sending her sliding to the floors, head hanging on her shoulder. Her chest rose and fell in quick procession, desperate to catch a breath.

Family. It was a word that Carlisle used, though not often, as most vampires couldn't understand its complexity. It was enough; I could believe she _knew_ Carlisle, and was not something of an escaped pet. Rare though it was, it wasn't unheard of for a more sadistic vampire to take a human pet. I hadn't truly believed that Carlisle would, but his coven was large and I did not know them all as well as I knew Carlisle. However, I held no doubts she was a pet of sorts, believing herself having been loved by any of our kind. Vampires, by nature, were selfish. Had she been anyone of worth, she'd not be cut free so easily.

Crouching on the balls of my feet, I grasped her face again, between my fingers, yanking her chin up to reveal her face, "You mistake my question once again, girl. How do you know of Carlisle/ _Your_ affiliation. _Your_ association. You girl, you!"

"Edwards fa...father," she manage to stammer out before I shook her too forcibly. I released her face with a rough nudge, inadvertently knocking her head against the wall. "He was Edward's father. I..."

Letting my hands fall between my legs, elbows resting on my thighs, I remained crouched before her, inspecting her injuries. I hadn't damaged her too greatly, but her previous accident had left many bruises, cuts, and what I thought might have been a broken rib or two. Though perhaps, I could have been a fault for the ribs. I took no blame, and I'd hardly apologize; I didn't deal with humans often, save for eating them and damage was inevitable.

"Edward," I repeated slowly, watching her eyes harden. "He was Carlisle's first companion; the first son, yes? The Mind Reader?"

"Yes," the girl confirmed. "Spanish flu, early 1900's."

"Correct," I replied quietly, pinning the girl with a hard stare. "He was your owner?"

"Owner?" The girl replied, brow furrowing in question. "No...no he was my boyfriend. We were...we dated."

**Bella**

**!#$%^&**

"Owner?" I couldn't imagine what this crazy fuck of a vampire thought, but Edward never owned me. "No... No, he was my boyfriend. We were...we dated."

Dated. The word left a bitter taste in my mouth. But explaining the epic, all-consuming love I had ever felt for Edward wouldn't matter in the end. And I didn't really care to rehash it. It was over, done with, gone up in flames and prophetic catastrophe. We had all seen it coming; it didn't take an Alice to expect what had happened. I was a human. Edward was a vampire. More importantly, I was an idiot, and he was an asshole.

The vampire blinked, eyes narrowed, "You were courted by a vampire?"

"Courted?" Who the hell said courted? "I guess, yeah. He...you know, introduced me to his family, met my parents, saved me from imminent doom several times." I snorted, somewhat hysteric and inappropriate laughter bubbling up inside me. "He protected my virtue. Bought me dinner. He...he loved me, I think. He said he did, and I never believed he didn't. Even when he left. Yeah...if that's courting...we courted all over the place."

Sitting back on his haunches, the vampire nodded, "And he left you? Why? Carlisle is a very intelligent man. I cannot begin to fathom him leaving behind a...liability. Surely turning you would be a better option?"

"Look dude, I said tiredly, resting my sore head against the wall, "I am not a liability. It's been four years and I haven't spilled my bloody, human guts yet, have I? I loved the Cullens."

He looked at me sharply, glittering red eyes dissecting me carefully. "As you were so intent to not share with me the namesake of your previous vampiric association for fear that I would hunt them down, I am inclined to believe that much."

"Just like that?" I asked, incredulity making my voice crack. "Now what? I... Are you going to kill me?" My palms were sweaty, balled into tight fists, nails too short and blunt to tear my flesh, but it hurt anyways. The pain leveled me in my panic. God, I knew that he could kill me, most likely would. I knew that there was no hope, but it didn't mean I was ready. "I...I...fuck."

He smirked, rising to a fluid stand. I felt myself forced to my feet, cold hands gripping me by the shoulder of my jacket in a blurred rush. "If I were planning to kill you girl, you'd be dead. You stink of piss and blood; get in the shower and make yourself presentable."

"Pre...presentable?" I bit out, "Look. I'm not going to fucking wash myself because I'm not suitable to fucking eat. I...I'm not...you _bastard_. I'm not going to… to..." I was so angry I was stuttering, and I could feel the heat in my face as I all but screamed, "I'm not going to doll myself up to die. You… you want to eat me, it's a take it or fucking leave it menu! And... and you're pretty fucking funky yourself."

His nostrils faired, stern mouth twitching, "I've no intentions of eating you, you silly little girl. Consider it a favor to me for restraining myself that much, and return the gesture by cleansing yourself of the stink."

"No."

"I wasn't asking."

The collision of his shoulder to my stomach was almost gentle, but it still knocked the wind from my chest. He hauled me off my feet, and over his shoulder, dropping me roughly into a bright, white ceramic bathtub. His movements were jerky, blurred by his speed, and I found myself beneath the icy down pour of rusty, orange-tinged water. It smelled like copper, and salt, falling lighter then rain with the poor water pressure.

Suddenly my jacket was torn away, arms ripped from one side to the other. It fell to the floor, damp and bloody. He was there, shoving me under the cold spray when I struggled, hands wrapped around my forearms, holding me in place. His touch was methodically uninterested, fingers skating over superficial wounds and scratches from crawling through broken glass. He lifted my hands up, to inspect the sharp shards of glass still embedded in my palm. His hands were hard and cold, grasping roughly at my forearms to avoid the rings of dark purple, bleeding bruises that circled my wrist from being bound. Leaning past my body, he grabbed a bar of off-white soap from the little in-shower shelf, shoving it roughly into my hand.

The water trickled down my face, filling my mouth when I made to speak, but his hands were already moving, palm cupped roughly over my mouth. Every touch was just a little too hard, a little too rough, as if he was trying not to hurt me, but had nothing to gauge his force by. His other hand was at the back of my head, fingers probing at the wound, as if to access the damage. I winced when his fingers pressed against a particular sore spot, hissing through my teeth. I was bleeding. It made me damn nervous.

He released my face, pulling his other hand back, washing away the blood beneath the showerhead. "As of yet girl, I have no intentions of killing you, if nothing, as a favor to Carlisle. But be warned, and be warned well, I owe no favors to the man. This is purely an act of good will for an old friend. I'd sooner eat you, than deal with you at all. Wash yourself," he growled, eyes daring me to challenge. I did smell like pee, my pants were sticking to my skin, and it did feel awful; I could only nod.

**A/N: Now, I know it's easy to be mad at Alistair for manhandling Bella, but he really doesn't know any better, and he really is trying. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Hit and Run Chapter 3/?**

Author : Lifelesslyndsey

Summary : After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life.

Pairing: Bella and Alistair

Warning: M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know.

Word Count: 2,910

Beta: VampishVixen - the prodigal beta. She has returned.

Disclaimer: I own nearly nothing , not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!

**A/N So this chapter is a little awkward, but I imagine there will be lots and lots of awkward going on up in this story. 200 reviews you guys! That is so fricking awesome! Keep it up, it makes me happy, and it makes chapters longer. Thats a fact. **

**Previously On Hit and Run...**

And now...

**Bella**

**!#$%^&**

When at last I shut the shower off, peeling back the shower curtain slowly, I found my suitcase leaning against the chipped, ceramic pedestal sink. I hadn't heard him bring it in, not that I was all that surprised by the fact. It was just that this vampire, this Alistair, he seemed so unabashedly vampiric. He held nothing back, not like the Cullens, who clung to the shreds of their humanity with every nuance of strength they had in them. They shifted, and blinked, and cleared their throats like the best of them. I had known they were vampires, but I had never really seen it.

But this man, this vampire, he made the Cullens look like kittens; tame and sleepy. He moved with deadly grace, appearing by my side with little more then a shift of wind, and an unapologetic expression. He was fast; oh they were all fast, but to see it flaunted so nonchalantly, it made me realize that though I knew of vampires, I really knew nothing.

I laid my dirty clothes over the edge of the tub, wiping my skin dry with a scratchy navy blue towel. This wasn't the vampire's home, but I couldn't bring myself to wonder who it did belong to. Such thoughts would only lead to panic. I knew what he was, what he did; there was no sense in dwelling on it. I dressed quietly, listening for any sound. My skin itched, crawling with anticipation, adrenalin still rushing my veins. I felt high on fear, heart fluttering in my chest, even as I pulled on my t-shirt. My jeans were worn thin, a hole in each knee, but they were comfortable, and more so, they were Comfort. I'd had them since Phoenix, when things were simple, and my life was not insane.

Bare feet padding softly against the warped floor boards, I mapped my way through the house, not a sound to follow, just a hallway and a stair case. Passing the familiar garage door, I walked gently on, the hall pouring out suddenly into the kitchen. Yellow light illuminated the small room. The Vampire was at the sink, his bottom half hidden by a breakfast bar. I stepped around the bar to sit at the tiny kitchen table shoved against the wall beside the fridge, when I saw it.

"Oh God," I stumbled, hands flying forward. The vampires hand was clutching at the shoulder of my shirt at once, hauling me back to my feet, "Oh my god."

"Perhaps I should have warned you," his voice was quiet and smoky, like a whispered rasp. Nothing like the vicious growl I had previously heard, though it scared me no less. "I hadn't had the time yet to dispose of the body." He shoved me roughly into a kitchen chair.

"This...this is his house, then?" I stammered, staring at the pale, bloodless corpse on the floor of the kitchen. He was in his late forties, with dusty colored hair, and weathered, leathery skin. He looked peaceful, almost as if he was sleeping, and I found myself thankful for the fact.

"It is." The vampire nodded, shortly, turning to face the sink. Begging my heart to calm down or just kill me now, I gave myself a moment to examine my captor. He wore little more than tattered jeans and a dingy white undershirt that had seen better days. In his hand, he held a blunt knife, slowly hacking away at the chunks of melted, matted hair at his shoulders. I hadn't realized before, but his hair was quite long, falling towards the middle of his back in gnarled locks, shiny crow black, with one solid streak of dove gray in the front.

Gray hair in a Vampire, it seemed strange. I had always associated them with youth, even Carlisle who seemed older and other-wordly. It didn't age him, merely added to his beauty, giving him a look that screamed words like _knowledge_ and _wisdom._ He had stubble, which intrigued me, but I didn't have the balls to ask how Vampires grew hair. Obviously they could, it really didn't matter in the moment.

Alistair: an old name. An old name to match an old face to match an old soul. He looked war hardened and grizzly; the kind of person you wouldn't approach, and the kind of vampire that apparently made you piss yourself. His skin was the same flawless, milky white I had seen time and again, but it was smudged with dirt, and what I couldn't mistake for anything but old, dried blood. His nails were filthy, deadly sharp, and his mouth was drawn in a taught, stern line. He hacked away, lock after tangled lock falling into the sink basin, before I sighed, rising to a stand.

"Put the damn knife down, and sit in the fucking chair," I grumbled, rummaging through the kitchen drawers. I found what I was looking for: a pair of orange plastic-handled scissors, turning to find the Vampire still standing at the sink, looking at me with a torn and guarded expression. "Obviously I am not going to stab you; I'd probably end up stabbing myself. So just...sit down, before you scalp yourself bald."

"This is isn't necessary. I am not emotionally attached to my hair," the vampire replied warily. "It shall grow back, with enough time."

"Sit," I sighed, reaching out slowly for the knife. "Sit please?" Grasping it carefully by the blade, I tugged it free from his grip. "Just park your ass in the chair, please and uh... maybe tell me how it grows back, because I don't get that."

"Will you continue to natter on if I do not appease you this?" he asked, quirking a sleek, black brow. "I've no need for incessant chatter."

"I don't chatter," I replied indignantly, "and yes, I'll keep bugging you until you let me. I mean, it's my fault you hair is all fucked up, so this is the least I can do."

"Very well then," he replied, in the same low, gravely voice. He perched in the chair I myself had been seated in, first stepping gingerly over the goddamn dead body that I was refusing to acknowledge, lest I have some sort of nervous break down. There were dead bodies in the kitchen, no less could be expected of me. I was a tolerant person, but even I had limits. Apparently I drew the line at dead people in the breakfast nook.

"Good," I said shortly, coming to stand behind him. "Good, yeah. Uh. So I'm just gonna...clip off all the ...uh bad stuff. Do you have a preference in length?"

"I've no preference, it is only hair. Cut what you feel is necessary." He replied curtly, as I snipped the first lock, a thick black knotted curl falling to the floor like a raven's wing.

The awkward silence was stifling; I was sure my eardrums were going to rupture from the pressure alone. "So..."I continued to snip, working through his hair, the pile of curls growing larger. "Tell me how your hair continues to grow."

"Nutrients in the blood are stored in our bodies over time, as they are in a living body. The stores are generally reserved for times when a vampire cannot feed, as fat would serve for a starving human. However, over time, nutrients must be burned. It resulted in hair and nail growth," he explained clinically. "The process is slow; one year of hair growth in a human probably equals ten years to a vampire."

I nodded, clipping away another matted, tangled curl. His hair was just...stupidly soft, like every other vampire. It was unfair. It was also ridiculously filthy, and given that he had so kindly deposited me in the shower, I felt that I had every right to inform him of his own damn stench. "You know, you're kind of dirty. And you smell. You should monopolize on the available running water, and maybe the washing machine."

"I'm afraid I am quite ignorant to modern technology. I've not a clue how to operate the bathing facilities, as well as the washing machine." The vampire admitted.

"Running water isn't really modern technology," I noted, wondering just how old and isolated this vampire was. Careful to not touch his skin, I picked through the mess. "Turn your head a bit to the left, there that's it. How do you shower? Bathe? How do you like...clean yourself?" I asked, carding my fingers through his hair carefully, feeling for any more tangles. It was much better; I had done my best to keep it neat. It had been bad enough to merit cutting off at least a foot, leaving the tips of his hair brushing his shoulders.

"I bathe in the river," he replied, shortly. "Or in the rain."

"Wow, a real live hippy," I commented dryly, but the sarcasm seemed to be lost on the poor guy. "I could show you, if you'd like." I offered kindly, as kindly as I could to a predator. "I saw a washing machine in the garage, a dryer too. They're older than dirt, but they might work. I can wash your things."

"You wish to wash my clothes?" he asked, rising from the chair. "Odd."

"Well, we're being civil here. You didn't eat me and I did set you on fire, so the least I can do is cut your hair and wash your clothes. I'd offer to make you dinner, but that's out of the picture."

"Wives' work," he commented randomly, "very strange. If you insist on partaking in such domestic duties, I shall accede, if only to keep you from insisting we talk."

Well then, wasn't that peachy? "Well alright then. Would you like me to show you now? Or..."

"Now is fine. I shall be disposing of Mr. Glassglow while you sleep. We leave in the morning," he informed without pause, brushing an errant curl off his shoulder. It fluttered to the floor shining in the yellow, kitchen light.

"Leave?" I asked in alarm, tearing my eyes away from the body. He'd given it a name, forcing me to acknowledge that he was real dead person, right fucking in front of me. "Leave where? I'm not going anywhere with you! I...I have to get to a phone, I have to call work, and tell them what happened. You said you weren't going to kill me...what...what are you going to do with me?"

Rising from the chair in a blur, he looked down at me, red eyes scrutinizing my every inch, "I'm returning you to your owner."

"Own...Owner? I told you, I don't belong to Edward, I never did. We dated, we were...together." I explained indignantly, "I have to get to a phone. People will worry." Well, my boss would worry why I wasn't making my dead line, but that was probably enough to cause some sort of concern, right?

Ignoring the mention of a phone entirely, he blinked at me, mouth drawn up tighter into what I assumed was a frown. More of a frown, anyways. "I've no doubt you did not belong to Edward, as Edward is but a grunt among his coven. It was with Carlisle's permission as Coven leader, that Edward associated with you, so it is to Carlisle I will return you."

"I don't belong to Carlisle either!"

Growling slightly, the vampire sighed, "Perhaps _own _is not the correct word. However, it is the Cullen Coven who endangered you, thus leaving you to endanger me. I shall return you unto them, so that they may deal with you accordingly. Whether they kill you or not is none of my business. "

"They won't, you know?" I said offhandedly, "They won't kill me. Well, Rose might, and Jasper tried, but they won't. So if that's what you're hoping for..."

The vampire merely looked upon me, his entire being set in stone. "This is not personal, girl. I've no vendetta against you, though I should, as you have attempted to assassinate me. I wish merely to wash my hands of you and this mess. By returning you to the Cullen Coven, I will be acquitted of all guilt in the eyes of the scum sucking Volturi."

I sighed, shoulder falling. He had a point. It wasn't his fault I knew too damn much, and I really didn't want him to die. He seemed alright, a little weird and out of touch, but he hadn't eaten me. That got him major points in my book. "If you have to, I guess. I don't want you to get in trouble because I know too much. Come on, I'll show you how the shower works."

The bathroom seemed very small when you weren't being manhandled and forced into the shower. The Vampire stood close behind me, watching as I manipulated the faucets. Lukewarm water sprinkled from the shower-head, pattering against the ceramic tub loudly. "It isn't very warm, not that… uh...not that it would do much for you."

The vampire's head fell to the side in consideration before he spoke, peering at the bottles shoved into the corner of the bathtub, "What is _shampoo_?"

"What? Uh...it's for...it's used to clean your hair. You've really never showered before? Yeah, shampoo, cleans the hair. You might want to use...a lot of that. Don't worry about conditioner. You know what soap is right?"

Pinning me with a look I couldn't decipher but assumed was a more heated glare then his usual glare, the vampire nodded, "I understand soap."

Scratching my neck awkwardly, I nodded once, backing up a little to work my way around him in the little bathroom, "Right then...well. I found some towels under the sink...and... What the fuck are you doing?"

He peeled off his thin white shirt, holding it out for me to take, a look of dark amusement washing his normally cold face._ God._ He was ripped forty-seven different way to Sunday. What the hell did he do as a human to get a body like that as a vampire? There were no adolescent lines or softness, just hard muscle, sculpted and perfect and all angling and pointing downward like the 'V' thing I had only ever seen in Calvin Kline commercials and...and...

"I am undressing. Am I to wear my clothing while showering? I believe you offered to wash them yourself. It would be rather impolite to recant now."

"I...uh...no. Yeah, no. But...hey! Stop that." I snapped, as his hands quickly worked the buttons on his loose jeans. They fell to the floor slowly, fabric brushing against his skin loudly in the quiet, quiet bathroom. He stepped out of them, bending down to gather them up, and I could almost see what might have been a grin, except it was all teeth, and sort of scary. Following the drop of his pants, I noticed his feet were bare; no shoes or socks.

Actually, he was pretty much bare, save for a leather corded necklace tied around his neck. Jesus fuck, he was buck-ass naked and like a foot away in all his scary vampire glory.

"Girl?"

My eyes snapped up from where they were unabashedly glued on to the very first vampire cock I had ever seen. Inappropriate questions flew through my mind like is that it's full length, is it hard all the time, and does it sparkle in the sun, and is that where Lady Ga Ga came up with the term Disco Stick? I squeaked, hands slapping over my eyes as I turned away quickly, smacking my face against the door in a scurry to just...not look _there_. There was going to be a bruise, I was sure of it.

"Fuck! What the hell is wrong with you?" I groaned, reaching one hand back blindly for his clothes. "You can't...you can't just go around taking off your clothes! I'm a girl...there are like... all sorts of issues with this. Just...give me your clothes and get your ass in the shower. Oh my god, you're like a cave man."

"Pirate, actually." There was a noise, something of a chuckle, and the filthy fabric of jeans and shirt greeted my hands. "I've no reason to be modest in front of you girl. Could you not undress yourself in front of a sandwich? I apologize if I offend you, but you are food, and beneath me."

I huffed, tearing the clothing from his hands, before slipping silently out of the bathroom and down the stairs. The washing machine, while being older than me, did actually work. I sat on top of it, and considered the possibility of running again. Though I couldn't be sure he didn't have spare clothing, I couldn't help but wonder if he would chase me through the night in nothing but his skin. Somehow, I imagined it wouldn't matter to him. The idea of him running after me naked as the day he was born made me snort, a hysterical little bubble of laughter escaping me. I slammed my mouth shut, afraid that if I started laughing now, I'd never stop.

There was a dead guy in the kitchen, a vampire in the bathroom, and a load of whites that still needed to be washed.

**A/N Next up we have Alistair, in all his misanthropic confusion. Obviously, they are at a level of tolerance, and maybe one day they'll call each other by there names and not Girl and Vampire. Love, love, love and cookies. And sex. And Peterbutterpie. Thats right, I said Peterbutter. Not Peanutbutter. Peterbutter is better. It's creamy and low in calories, and oh my god, I think I need a nap or an orgasm or something because this A/N is getting weird. Bye. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Hit and Run Chapter 5/?**

**Author :** Lifelesslyndsey

**Summary **: After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life.

**Pairing:** Bella and Alistair

**Warning:** M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know.

**Word Count:** 1,800ish.

**Beta: **Kitty Cullen-03 – she's the awesome in my sauce.

**Disclaimer:** I own nearly nothing , not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!

_**Previously on Hit and Run**_

_I huffed, tearing the clothing from his hands, before slipping silently out of the bathroom and down the stairs. The washing machine, while being older than me, did actually work. I sat on top of it, and considered the possibility of running again. Though I couldn't be sure he didn't have spare clothing, I couldn't help but wonder if he would chase me through the night in nothing but his skin. Somehow, I imagined it wouldn't matter to him. The idea of him running after me naked as the day he was born made me snort, a hysterical little bubble of laughter escaping me. I slammed my mouth shut, afraid that if I started laughing now, I'd never stop._

_There was a dead guy in the kitchen, a vampire in the bathroom, and a load of whites that still needed to be washed._

And now...

**Alistair**

**!#$%^&***

When at last I was finished with my shower, I paused, taking a moment to secure a towel around my waist carefully. I'd not had a reason to be modest, and if asked I would admit that my social interactions were both limited and rusty. However, I couldn't be bothered to care; the girl was neither friend nor equal. But I'd give her this modesty if it kept her from shrieking. I found the girl cloistered away in the cluttered garage, perched carefully on a loud, rattling machine. "This is the contraption that cleanses my garments? I'm not sure I trust it."

The girl huffed, her mouth curling into an attractive smile. She had very good teeth for a human, almost white, and nearly straight, if not for the slightly overlapping lower left interior incisor, and a filling in her right bicuspid. I could smell the blood scabbing at the base of her skull, and rising beneath the purple-black bruises ringing her wrists. I'd have to be more careful with her if I intended to return her to Carlisle in working order, and I did. I knew well enough that such details would mean most to Carlisle, and returning to him a broken girl would most likely be held in offense.

"If by contraption you mean washing machine, and by garments you mean clothes, then no. This is the contraption that dries them. It's a dryer. You were in there a while, they're probably nearly done." She replied, hopping down from the metal box and prying open a door in its front. Heat wafted from the machine, brushing over my damp skin in comfortable waves.

"I apologize. I had not realized there was a customary amount of time one must spend cleaning themselves when using such facilities," I replied somewhat awkwardly. It seemed an odd thing, to restrict oneself in such a manner. I had always taken as much time as needed to wash myself. Perhaps showers were different. Humans were strange.

She turned, arms full of jeans and shirts, a small frown marring her kewpie-doll features. "That isn't what I meant, exactly. There isn't a time limit or whatever. I...well I wasn't sure if you uh...were getting the hang of it, I guess. Um..you know, if you knew what you were doing in there, but wasn't going to like...help you or anything."

"I assure you, a man my age can bathe himself. Is it normal for you to put so much consideration into the bathing habits of others? I am sure this isn't a traditional human habit," I questioned, knowing full well that with every word I spoke she grew more flustered and red-faced. I was misanthropic if not a little out-of-touch, but I was hardly an idiot.

"I wasn't thinking about you in the shower, I really wasn't. Oh my god, why can't I stop talking?" Her cheeks were stained red as she thrust my clothing into my arms.

"I do wonder," I replied idly, taking my warmed garments from her shaking hands. The girl squeaked as I released my grip on the towel, dropping it to the floor to free my hands for dressing. I smirked as she turned away in a rush, scrabbling to distance herself from me.

"God, you can't just do that!" she hissed, much to my amusement, cupping her palms over her face. "Wonder about what?"

"Why it is that you cannot seem to stop talking."

**!#$%^&**

We returned to the kitchen, Girl trailing me like a faithful puppy. I could not help but be impressed by the manner in which she was handling her situation. "I apologize if disturbs you. If you need nothing else, you can adjourn to bed, and I shall dispose of the corpse."

She made an indecipherable face, mouth turning down into a frown. "I haven't..."With sigh, she ran her fingers through her hair. "Where should I sleep?"

"If you need something girl, now is the time to make mention of it. As for sleeping arrangements, the upstairs bedroom quarters will suffice. But be warned, should you take it upon yourself to escape, I will find you. Such is my gift, girl, you cannot run from me. Now, tell me what you need, dissembling is not an attractive quality. I am in no position to understand the inner-workings of human females. Do not assume I have the slightest inkling as to what is required for your upkeep and maintenance."

"I haven't eaten," she replied sharply, an irritated flush washing her skin in pink. "Upkeep? I am not a poodle. I haven't eaten. I'm kind of hungry, okay?"

Blinking, I nodded once. I realized I must have offended her in some manner, though I could hardly care. The sooner she was fed, the sooner she would sleep. A situation better for the both of us as I grew more and more irritated by her voice, and she by mine, apparently.

"Very well, then I suggest you forage through Mr. Glassglows stores for proper food. His facilities seem adequate." I nodded in the direction of the small, gas stove and matching almond-colored ice-box.

She nodded shakily, "I can do that."

"Very well. If it is no matter to you, I shall dispose of Mr. Glassglow sooner rather than later. His body has already began to cool, moving him before full rigor mortise sets in will make it that much easier. Less bones to break. Are you in need of anything else?"

The girl's eyes flittered between myself and the late Mr. Glassglow, "No. I'm...I'm fine."

Cautiously, I stepped forward, closing the gap between us. Her heart slammed into her chest, an incessant tapping noise that nearly echoed in the room. "It bothers you greatly, yes? What I am...how I feed? This, yes?"

"What? Him? Yeah, I mean...a little," she admitted, moving away from me to lean against the sink. "I mean...it doesn't bother me that you feed from humans. It's...I get that I'm lower down on the food chain, I don't like...resent you for eating uh...humans. It's just...I'm a human, and that guy is like...dead. And I know you killed him, so yeah, I can't help but be a little freaked out, but I think I'm doing a pretty good job at...you know...not freaking out."

"You're sweating," I noted, a pale sheen of moisture appearing at her temples. Her sudden terror baffled me; she had done so well until now, indeed I had been impressed. Intrigued by what could have possible sparked her sudden fear, I moved closer, watching closely her inherent reaction to my proximity. I'd never stalked my prey before, never one to enjoy the hunt, finding my pleasure in the core of the kill. She pressed harder against the sharp edge of the counter, her upper body bending backwards over the sink basin. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the counter, arms bent at awkward angles. Her feet slid on the floor as she attempted to push herself further, throat rolling as she swallowed. "And your heart, it beats hard against your chest. You're having trouble breathing as well, aren't you?"

"Yea...yes," she stammered out, eyes fluttering downward to keep from looking me in the eye. "Please stop...I'm not...they weren't like you. They didn't... You..."

Snapping to a stand, I stepped backward, watching her carefully. Her shoulders fell slightly in relief, chest still rising with every hard breath. "You are scared of me," I stated bluntly. "You should be. Even the tamest of Vampire is still a danger to you, girl, and you would do well to remember that. The Cullens may look like house pets in comparison to me, but they are still Vampires. A lesson you would do well to learn."

Her chin raised fractionally, defiance etched in the harsh curve of her neck. "I've learned that lesson, thank you very much. Why do you think I'm alone? Why do you think that the Cullens left me in the first place?"

"I cannot say that I care, but I am sure you will tell me regardless." I didn't care for her suddenly abhorrent attitude; I had done so very little to deserve it. I refused to be talked down to by something as pitiful as this plaything. In my eye, I could barely see her as a food source, she was little more than a Vampire pastime, and not even an adequate one. "Please, enlighten me."

"Jasper tried to eat me," she replied in a quiet growl. "Edward decided I wasn't worth the bother. And I was left behind. I think I've learned that big scary vampires, even the nice ones, are really big scary assholes in disguise. Lesson learned, right? Is that adequate enough for you? I know you're all goddamn predators, big scary lions, and I want nothing to do with the lot of you. I wasn't looking to find a goddamn Vampire, _Alistair,_ when I crawled out of my fucked-up car, so don't fucking judge me. I know what you are and I know what I am to you. I know what I was to them. You're gonna lecture me about understanding how stupid it is to get tied up in this life? And then force me back into it. Well _fuck you,_ you goddamn pretentious fucktard!'

Her face was flush, and I half wondered if she realized she herself had closed the distance between us, standing so close that I could feel the faint heat of her body. Her face was still flush, angry unattractive red splotches staining her chest and cheeks. Her hands were balled into fierce fists at her side, eyes flashing with deep seeded anger. Even her teeth were bared, lips wet and red, bruised indents sunk deep in the soft, chapped flesh where she had bit down too hard. My stomach twisted and clenched uncomfortably as I watched her tiny frame shaking as she turned her hard glare upon me. It was much like watching all the ferocity of a wild cat poured into the form of a kitten. I realized what the feeling was, coiling hotter in my stomach, even as unease crept up my spine. _Respect._

The very notion that I could bring myself to respect this...this...this _sandwich_ baffled me. Very truly, I was losing my mind.

Her reaction, and my own as well, to our mutual surprise, startled a laugh from me. I was momentarily confused by the sound, it. "_Bloody_ hell girl, the bollocks you must have!"

She frowned, clearly agitated by my response. "What the fuck is funny?"

"You, girl," blinking, I quieted myself, mind rolling over her words. "I find myself wondering the sort of Vampire you would be, girl. Your ... fortitude in the face of clear and present danger astounds me. Even now, you are terrified. As well as you should be, and yet you have the audacity to challenge me and call me a pretentious...fuck...tard." I was sure that it was an insult of sorts, even if I couldn't quite identify it's meaning.

She laughed as well, a hard little chuckle, before falling backwards again to lean against the counter. "I was never really one for self preservation. I'm sorry I called you a fucktard."

Nodding slowly, feeling my lips curl up into an awkward, and probably feral looking smile, I cocked my head to the side, to curious for my own licking. "What is a fucktard?"

A/N A little more playful banter and tension. I'm trying to show that Alistair does have a sense of humor, even if he isn't sure what to make of The Sandwich. I'm taking suggestions on Sandwich Nicknames. Leave your Sandwich Nickname in your review, and later this week maybe I'll do a poll or something.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hit and Run Chapter 6**

**Author : Lifeless Lyndsey**

**Summary : After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life.**

**Pairing: Bella and Alistair**

**Warning: M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know.**

**Word Count: 2,812. **

**Beta: VampishVixen - she did this not even knowing what I had sent her, bless the girl.**

**Disclaimer: I own nearly nothing, not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!**

**A/N: I am here to prostrate myself at your feet, and grovel for forgiveness for my lengthy absence. I apologize. However, I am here now, back in action. Hope you like. **

_**Previously**_

_She frowned, clearly agitated by my response. "What the fuck is funny?"_

_"You, girl," blinking, I quieted myself, mind rolling over her words. "I find myself wondering the sort of Vampire you would be, girl. Your ... fortitude in the face of clear and present danger astounds me. Even now, you are terrified. As well as you should be, and yet you have the audacity to challenge me and call me a pretentious...fuck...tard." I was sure that it was an insult of sorts, even if I couldn't quite identify it's meaning._

_She laughed as well, a hard little chuckle, before falling backwards again to lean against the counter. "I was never really one for self preservation. I'm sorry I called you a fucktard."_

_Nodding slowly, feeling my lips curl up into an awkward, and probably feral looking smile, I cocked my head to the side, to curious for my own licking. "What is a fucktard?"_

*!

**Currently**

"What is a fucktard?"

Rude though it was, and it was, I couldn't help but break into a fit of hysterical laughter at his question, because _fuck._ Just _fuck. _ I was currently shacked up in a kitchen with a vampire and a dead guy. Hysteria seemed to be an appropriate response.

"A _fucking_ retard," I said flatly, raking my fingers through my hair. "I'm really starting to wonder what it was I did in my previous life to deserve this shit."

He frowned, staring awkwardly at the floor for a moment. "On what do you base your assumption that I am ...retarded? I'll have you know my intelligence dates back centuries. I know things no living man could dream of."

I threw up my hands, letting them fall with an exasperated slap against my thighs. "Oh for fucks sake, it's just an expression. It doesn't actually mean you're retarded. I'm sure you're a really smart guy."

"I am," he replied shortly, pinning me with a frigid, feral look. "And yet as intelligent as I am, I am also honest. I do not pretend to deny my heavy lack of current social understanding. While I am not so aloof that I do not know what a Starbucks is, I do accede to having not taken the time to update myself properly in the last several decades or so. This century, in my opinion, has proven flighty and useless in comparison to its predecessors. Very little innovation in your youth, these days. The only thing you've manage to create was a bloody computer, and it's more a menace then much else. Perhaps if I took the time to acquaint myself with the bloody things, I'd be more adept in ...understanding this era."

"You hate computers, and you know what Starbucks is," I repeated stupidly, sinking back to brace myself against the kitchen counter. The faucet leaked, raining rusty droplets of water into the scrubbed basin with a _plink, plink, plink._ The scent of metal and salt clung to my skin from my shower, reminding me disgustingly of blood. I pushed down the bile rising in my throat, carefully, and some what noisily, breathing out my mouth, instead of my nose. I'd already pissed my pants in front of the bastard; I didn't much feel like vomiting on his shoes at the moment.

Still standing in a state of immobile perfection, he replied easily, throwing me a sharp smile, teeth glinting dangerously against the exposed light bulb overhead. "Of course I've heard of Starbucks. Barista's are delicious," he deadpanned.

I blinked, somewhat unnerved by his careless, if not callous, discussion of victims. But I couldn't begrudge him, he was what he was. "I ...really?"

One immaculate, dark brow rose disappearing behind his mess of blue-black hair. "Do you really wish to know?"

Shuddering to myself, I frowned. "No, not really." I let my fingers drum along the sticky counter tops. "And your dislike of computers?"

He didn't shrug, but I imagined that he did; it seemed appropriate as his voice faded from its smoky, cool tone to something almost but not quite flippant. "Invasive technology. I've no desire to be numbered among you cattle, documented and logged like a book in a library. Numbers; so many bloody fucking numbers. Social Security numbers, bank routing numbers, credit card numbers, insurance numbers, bloody fucking telephone numbers. Tracked and traced, like Hans Christian Andersen's bread crumb trail. I'll not be followed by your lot, or my own. I'll not be found by any. You humans, you make it easy. There naught be a need for a tracker when the prey carries with them all that is needed within their very wallet."

I watched him carefully, and though his immaculate disposition never fell, his rant grew. The glint in his eye hardened, messy tangles of wet hair sticking slick to his skin, curling errantly under his ear. Motherfucking beautiful vampires, he really was no exception. But the vampire in this vampire was altogether more obvious, making him stupidly more beautiful.

"How old are you?" I asked, almost at random, no doubt cutting him off mid-sentence. His head fell to the side like a calculating cocker spaniel, heavy wet hair falling over his bare shoulder. "I... sorry. Is that like a rude question to ask a Vampire? I always wondered."

He blinked, snapping himself back into his previous immaculate posture. "I do not believe it's considered a vampiric social faux pa, no. However, will it suffice to say that I am exceptionally old, older even then Carlisle, and most likely the eldest of any vampire you've met, and if the Gods will have it, ever meet?"

"You don't know, do you?" I asked, struggling not to smirk.

His vibrant glossy eyes narrowed, brows furrowed in obvious irritation. "I have a general estimation, thank you very much. After the first several hundred years, it become tedious to keep track. I do know that I was born in the winter months, and I died in the summer."

"What's your rough estimate then? You said you were older then Carlisle." I pressed carefully. I didn't really want to upset him, as the terse and haughty conversation was most likely the only stretch of peace we'd find between ourselves.

"Were you not preparing yourself dinner, girl?" he asked stiffly. It was as much an order as it was a question, and I proceeded with my foraging once again. "I believe I am on the cusp of a millennium. I am without a doubt, at the very least, some eight-hundred and fifty years old, for what research I have done has led me to believe I was among the first of many generations of English pirates that sailed the southern seas."

"Wow," I admitted my awe monosyllabically. In truth, I was surprised. He was damn near a thousand fucking years old. I couldn't even begin to consider the way the world could have changed in so many years, and found myself empathizing for the bastard. I viciously squashed down the unwarranted emotion, reminding myself that he'd have eaten me already had it not been for our mutual knowledge of Carlisle Cullen. Sniffing gingerly at the half-gallon of milk in the fridge, I checked the date. It was fairly new, the guy must have gone to town recently; I wondered if any one would miss him. Gathering my gathered goods of milk and stale cheerios, I dumped them unceremoniously into a chipped white bowl. I leaned against the counter, bowl cupped in my hand. I didn't really feel like stepping around the corpse at the moment.

He was silent, taking no measure to continue the conversation, and I knew without a doubt that my attempt at small talk would hardly be welcome, but I pursued it none the less. No matter what the situation, I rarely welcomed silence these days, never fully willing to submit myself time to think. If given the chance to contemplate my current predicament, I was fairly sure I'd burst into another fucking bout of hysterical laugher.

"You look different. Uh, I mean, you don't look exactly like the Cullens did, or the other vampires I've met, for that matter. It isn't...I'm not sure what's different. Is your kind capable of change? I mean...obviously you can't change, but can you adapt, over the years? Evolve, or whatever?"

He looked thoughtful, eyes flickering to the floor in contemplation. "It isn't so much as evolution, as it is de-evolution, though that isn't exactly right. It is much like animal breeding, I think. Like dogs, for example. You begin with a pure animal, a pure _breed_, from which you make more_ nearly_-pure dogs. From them come even less pure dogs, and as the generations continue, the blood lines muddy, the perfection fades as the each generation is a step further from the very first of its kind. I am closer to the Original Vampire, whoever he or she might have been, than Carlisle or Edward. Therefore, I am far closer to the source of perfection, as would be those who were made from my venom. Does this make sense to you?"

Though I knew much about vampire lore, both through literary reference and my goddamn life, I hadn't given their history beyond what they were, much consideration. "It does, actually. It's like... the Queen? You're closer to the throne, I suppose."

"Your analogy is perhaps more adept then mine, but I am loath to compare myself to any form of government. But yes, I am closer to the throne, as you might say, though I am hardly the closest. The Volturi rat-bastards have at least five hundred years on me. And they are hardly the youngest of our kind. Though, I know of only fourteen vampires over the age of one-thousand, and I am closest to making fifteen," he noted, almost absently.

"Why so few? I mean, you guys are pretty much top of the food chain, plus you're immortal. Shouldn't there be more?" I asked around a mouthful of cheerios.

The vampire grimaced at my obvious lack of manners, but I wasn't exactly going to stand on fucking ceremony, and he seemed to realize it would be futile to ask. "Sadly, we are our own worst enemy," he explained, eyes drifting toward the ceiling. "It is rare that a Vampire sees his way past five hundred before being killed by one of his own kind."

"Why kill each other? Shouldn't you all have some sort of sense of camaraderie?" I pressed, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. "Shouldn't you have each others backs, or something?"

"Where is the need? The only thing from which our backs need guarding is each other. You are disillusioned by the Cullen Coven, which encourages family morale. Real blood sucking vampires are solitary, vicious creatures whose baser instincts are limited to survive, and all that it encompasses; eat and kill." He blinked, frowning. "Our worldly population will never be high, for our feeding source is not one which cultivates quickly. With too many vampires feeding, we would most likely drain the world dry before it had a chance to re-populate; which is why most vampires are killed to protect feeding territory."

I waved my spoon somewhat errantly, splattering milk spots along the cupboard doors. "Yeah, yeah, survival of the fittest among the fittest of the fittest, or whatever. What's with your hair? The white I mean?"

His hand raised, finger coiling around the one white streak. "This," he began, tugging on the lock, "is the result of extended periods of non-feeding. I went one-hundred years without imbibing, and began to age. I'm told that the effects of non-feeding can be some what disturbing, if Stephan and Vladimir are anything to go by. It is somewhat frightening, what they have managed to do to themselves, and they are even closer to the Throne, as you say."

"Stephan and Vladimir," I repeated slowly, wondering why the reference sounded vaguely familiar. "Who are they? What did they do?

"You're very curious for a pet ,you know," he stated bluntly. "Know that I am indulging you answers to keep you from whining or generally irritating me in any other manner. I would not grow accustomed to my obvious placation. Stephan and Vladimir, to my knowledge, are the eldest vampires in existence. After their unceremonious dethroning by Aro and his Clan, they abstained from feeding for almost five hundred years. The results were somewhat alarming, as the last time I saw them, some two-hundred years ago, I could still see through their skins."

"All your skin is pale, though. I mean, that isn't really weird, is it?" I asked, rinsing my bowl in the sink.

He shook his head, water falling from his still-wet hair. "You mistake my meaning. I could see _through_ their skin; to the meat of their muscles, every vein and tendon pulled taught across their bodies, flushed red with fresh blood. I do believe the effects will diminish with time if they continue to feed as they have been, but the disturbing sight will linger with me always."

"Sounds disgusting," I agreed. "Carlisle had a picture of Aro and his...brothers, or whatever, in his office. Their skin looked like paper. You couldn't...well in the painting, you couldn't see through it. But it looked delicate, like china. It made them look human. Did they abstain from feeding as well?"

The vampire snorted, "As if that indulgent pig would abstain from anything. No, his appearance is due to his lack of movement. He sits upon that throne like a gargoyle on Notre Dame and collects soldiers like one might collect postage stamps. He was, last time I bothered to consider, very interested in the Cullen Clan. He's somewhat fond of Carlisle. It is no doubt that the Cullen Clan is comprised of spectacularly gifted vampires, something which Aro openly covets. I do believe it would be both Alice's and Edward's gifts that interested him the most."

"Why?" I asked without hesitation, openly taking advantage of his current mollifying demeanor. "I mean, what makes them so important?"

Blinking, the vampires head fell to the side once more. "Are you unaware of Aro's particular gift? He can see all that there is to see, every second of one's past, every lie and truth, with little more then a touch. If he should be given the chance to harness both Alice's and Edward's gifts, he'll have all of past, present, and future at his fingertips. A dangerous thing indeed. I would not hesitate to kill either of them, did I find such a scenario a real threat."

The stark honesty in his voice made me cringe. "You don't think it could happen? You don't think Aro is trying?"

"Oh, I very much think that Aro openly courts both of those particular Cullens, however I also know that Carlisle has raised them with morals in which Aro cannot understand. So, as of yet, it is no threat. The Cullen brats understand what is at stake and hold their ground, albeit politely, against the Volturi. If it were not for Aro's open fondness of Carlisle, I believe he would have taken them by force already. I do believe he has already tried that approach with the one they call Jasper, which to my understanding, ended disastrously."

I gaped, open mouth and foolishly. "They tried to take Jasper from the Cullens?"

"Nay," he replied curtly, "They tried to take Jasper from Maria Sandina, his maker. While she is no match for the power behind the Volturi, it seems that Jasper is exceptional in his abilities."

"Tell me about it," I grumbled, remembering the many times I had found myself brought down from rage and terror. It could be disconcerting, to say the least. Nauseating, if I was being fucking honest.

"Then you understand that when Aro sent his minion, the little pain-slinger Jane, with the expectation that he would be brought a veritable War God, he was sadly mistaken. Jane turned her dubious gift upon Jasper, who succumbed to it like any vampire would. However, he pressed upon her such a heavy masochistic urge, that she turned it upon herself. Something Aro hadn't even considered. He backed away then, uncomfortable with the knowledge that Jaspers gifts could be used against even his strongest of minions."

I frowned, uncomfortable with the fact that this vampire had told me more about the Cullens than the Cullens had ever bothered to share. I felt a day's worth of trauma and drama crash down on me like a fucking tidal wave. "I...I think I'm going to sleep, now."

"Very well, I would advise that you do not attempt to escape again. And please refrain from setting fire to my person, if you would. I will not take kindly to any more attempts against my life. If the weather permits, we'll be leaving tomorrow evening. Am I right to assume you are adverse to foot-travel?"

"Not unless you want to cart my ass across this continent on your back." I replied stiffly. "I can rent a car; uh… actually, I should probably report the accident," I added, almost as an afterthought. I hadn't considered the fact that the car would be missed, probably more than I would. Though it also wouldn't hurt to check in with my boss; not that she was expecting me any time soon.

The vampire smirked, dark and dirty. "Oh no, no, no. There will be no need to report anything other then a Missing Persons form. You left your life in that car, I'm afraid. From this day forth, Bella Swan is dead."

**A/N: So, we got to learn a bit more about every one, not just Alistair. I did alter some things, like Stephan and Vladimir's appearance, as well as fabricating some vampire lore. I like the idea that the older a vampire is the more perfect he would seem. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Hit and Run Chapter 7**

Author : Lifeless Lyndsey

Summary : After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life.

Pairing: Bella and Alistair

Warning: M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know.

Word Count: 1,350.

Beta: VampishVixen - you have to love a kickass beta.

Disclaimer: I own nearly nothing, not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!

**A/N: So the chapter isn't all that long, and I know, I know, it's been a month. I've kind of made Once Bitten, Twice Shy my priority as it's nearing its end. Anyways, in this chapter you get to see some very subtle progression in Alistair and Bella's non-relationship.**

_**Previous**_

_"Not unless you want to cart my ass across this continent on your back." I replied stiffly. "I can rent a car; uh… actually, I should probably report the accident," I added, almost as an afterthought. I hadn't considered the fact that the car would be missed, probably more than I would. Though it also wouldn't hurt to check in with my boss; not that she was expecting me any time soon._

_The vampire smirked, dark and dirty. "Oh no, no, no. There will be no need to report anything other than a Missing Persons form. You left your life in that car, I'm afraid. From this day forth, Bella Swan is dead."_

_**Now**_

**xXxXxXxXx**

**Bella POV**

I blinked back at him, heart pounding in my chest. "Dead? No. I can't be dead. People will notice I'm gone."

"It will matter little, for by the time you're noticed to be missing, we shall be long gone," he replied with a pointed look, one sharp eyebrow raised as if to challenge me. "This is not matter to discuss. Your choices are simple; proverbially dead, or actually dead. Perhaps you should take into consideration which of the two would be easier for me, girl. Now go to bed."

"You can't do this to me!" I'm ashamed to admit that I stomped my foot like a damned grounded twelve year old. "I'm a person! You can't just...sequester me away. It doesn't work like that."

"I can and it does," he replied with a smirk, the corners of his mouth curling just so, somewhere between creepy and frightening. "You are no more a person to me than King Henry was faithful, you wretched little girl. You are little more then sustenance; a meal, a _sandwich_, and if you don't shut your bloody mouth, you'll quickly become a midnight snack. As much as I like Carlisle, I like myself far more, and you are trying my patience. Now. Go to sleep."

"Someone will miss me," I argued, though feebly.

Falling into a crouch beside the drained, stiffening corpse, he replied in kind, "All the more reason to press on, I should think." He swung the cold corpse up and over his shoulders, turning to spare me one last glance. "Do be a good girl and remain where you are, I'll be most put out should I have to chase you. If you think I'm less than pleasant now, you've clearly not seen me when I feel inconvenienced. You know where the bedroom is, make use of it. We shall be leaving in a few hours."

With one last fleeting glare, I knew that this wasn't a battle I would win. I was at the mercy of a man, no, a vampire, who cared little of me and even less of my continued existence. I took the stairs one at time, my shaking hands wrapped around the rail, its splintered wood tugging at my skin. Dead.

I might as well have been dead for all that I was anticipating seeing _them _again.

I curled up on the bed, pulling the blanket high to shield my eyes from the slanting moonlight. This couldn't be real. I'd wake, I was sure of it, to find it was all a dream. It had to be a dream. I couldn't do this.

I couldn't.

I just...

This couldn't be real.

**xXxXxXxXx**

It was still dark when I woke to a rush of wind, to find that it was in fact real. My chest clenched, suffocating me where I sat upright in a dead man's bed. Panic. Fear. Terror. Raking hand through my disheveled and still slightly damp hair, I let my head hang in my hands. In a matter of moments, my life had turned upside down; where up wasn't up, but it wasn't down either. I had no anchor to keep me leveled in a situation where I had no control. It was like vertigo, like spinning, or falling up. Disoriented, I couldn't get a hold of anything, let alone myself. This was panic, anxiety crushing down on me in waves. Someone would miss me, I assured myself. If no one else, the car rental company would notice. That was something.

Looking up slowly, I breathed deeply, letting my hands fist in the scratchy patchwork blanket. Something glinted in the darkness, and I allowed my eyes to focus, settling on the plate and glass now beside me on the nightstand. Setting the plate in my cross-legged lap, I sipped at the cool water, grimacing at the rusty aftertaste. I wondered if he was being funny, making me a fucking sandwich after calling me one. My stomach grumbled, informing me that it cared very little if this was a joke or not. Picking at the slightly stale crust, I bit into the sandwich, plain cheese on white, appeasing my gurgling stomach acid. I squashed the sensation to be thankful to my Keeper, as he really didn't deserve it.

**xXxXxXxXx**

**Alistair POV**

The girl slept well into the evening, a cause for concern, I was sure. I had very little way of gauging such things, as I couldn't remember my last dreams, so many years had come and past. Still, I knew enough to understand, to some level anyway, head wounds. I crept into the room at eleven in the evening, watching with sharp eyes as the girl slept.

She looked better, as far as such things go. Her cheeks had regained some color, though it might have been that because she slept, she looked less likely as if she was going to faint again. At any other time, I might have been pleased at my ability to strike such easy fear in a human, but at the current, it seemed only to hinder my already quite tiring plight.

Foreign, and wholly un-welcomed I might add, pleasure peaked weakly inside me as I took in the empty plate and glass. I cared very little for her comfort, of course. However, it was paramount that she be returned to my long-lost friend in considerable condition. Carlisle, I remembered, found such things important. It was, I conceded, the doctor in him.

Whatever the matter, she had eaten the food, giving unto me some level of trust. It would make our continued journey minutely more tolerable. I'd no wish to deal with the impertinent tantrums of girls. Only worse than that could be tears, and to my deep, deep gratitude, the girl had yet to really cry. Thanks be unto to the gods for such small favors.

I heard the impressively subtle shift in breath and knew that she was awake now; keeping perfectly still, save for the rise and fall of her chest. Standing at the edge of the bedside, I pulled the lamp-chain, filling the room with soft yellow light. Gripping her chin between my thumb and forefinger as gently as I could, I shook her.

"Open your eyes," I commanded, waiting impatiently as her lashes flickered against her cheeks. "Now, if you would. Though I have much time on my hand, I've very little reason to waste it on you."

"No one asked you to," she grumbled, the hard pounding of her heart against her chest, the only thing belying the nonchalance in her tone.

She opened her eyes at last, black pupils dilating against the wide brown eyelids. "Good. No concussion. I'd advise that you rise now, as we are leaving in an hour's time."

"How?" she asked, as I released her chin. She sat up slowly, blankets pooling at her waist, looking so disheveled I was half tempted to consider it obscene. Old ways die hard, I reminded myself, times had changed.

"If you believe I am incapable of renting a car without your aid, you believe wrong. I went into town while you slept and procured us a means of transportation." I sighed as she blinked up at me, looking for all the world very much like a sleepy owl. "I can drive, you know."

She blushed, inexplicably, pink staining her cheeks and neck. "I...I just mean...you seem really old, is all. And you said you were kind of out of touch."

"I am old," I conceded. "However, driving has been around far longer than you have, girl. As I see it, it is an important skill that changes very little over the years. I've found it useful, and as such, kept myself fresh, so to speak."

"Mmm," she hummed. "I'll be down in a minute, then."

Vaguely surprised at her easy acceptance, I nodded shortly, accepting my small victory with little comment. I'd have to consider some sort of gold-star system for her good behavior. Positive reinforcement and such. Perhaps I could feed her again.

**A/N Don't worry, Alistair won't starve Bella. She can't eat that much anyways, right?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hit and Run Chapter 8**

**Author : **Lifeless Lyndsey

**Summary : **After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life.

**Pairing: **Bella and Alistair

**Warning: **M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know.

**Word Count: **2,396

**Beta: **VampishVixen - who's been biding her time quietly until I made this priority.

**Disclaimer: **I own nearly nothing, not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!

**A/N: **So this story is finally my priority posting fic! In theory, that will mean way more updates, and longer chapters (2-3k with the occasional 5k I'm sure). Eventually I will be posting my newest fic, Five Seconds To Death, but until Hit and Run is over (and it's a long way from over) it will have priority. Scout's honor. Not that I was ever a scout. I buy Girl Scout cookies though, does that count?

_**Previously on H&R**_

_"I am old," I conceded. "However, driving has been around far longer than you have, girl. As I see it, it is an important skill that changes very little over the years. I've found it useful, and as such, kept myself fresh, so to speak."_

_"Mmm," she hummed. "I'll be down in a minute, then."_

_Vaguely surprised at her easy acceptance, I nodded shortly, accepting my small victory with little comment. I'd have to consider some sort of gold-star system for her good behavior. Positive reinforcement and such. Perhaps I could feed her again._

**Bella**

**!#$%^&**

"Don't touch anything."

My hand stilled over the stair rail. "What?"

"I've already wiped the house clean of your prints," he explained, his voice no less the raspy growl it had been the day prior. Apparently that wasn't his tone of exasperation, it was just his tone. Unless he was always exasperated, and then I was just fucked. "I'll ask that you wait in the car while I clear the upstairs of evidence."

"Why does it matter?" I asked, fingers twitching to wrap around the rail just to spite him. I didn't. He'd swoop up the stairs and manhandle me out into the car if I breathed on the fucking thing. Instead I took each step cautiously, flinching as I felt the hem of my pants catch the jagged edges of the third stair.

His eyes narrowed, and as I predicted he grabbed me up, lifting me easily at the waist. "Even though you care little about your personal welfare, I'll not have you compromise mine," he ground out between his teeth, carrying me away from his body as if I might infect him. "Although it is impossible that your disappearance will not be connected with the death of , I'd rather there is no evidence that you bathed, ate, and slept here. It's far more convincing that you were abducted from your vehicle if there is no evidence of your existence post-abduction. I need it to look as if you were kidnapped."

"That should be easy," I replied bitterly, wiggling in his grip. His fingers clenched threateningly against my soft stomach. "You _are_ kidnapping me."

"All lies are born from some truth, girl," he replied with ease. "The beauty of it is that I do not exist. They may look for your kidnapper all they wish; they'll never find me, and they'll never find you."

I ignored the ball of dread that had formed in my stomach, squashing any semblance of hope. "You know, Alice might see this."

"Good," he replied. "One can only hope that she'll meet us half-way, and I'll be done with you sooner."

"You're an asshole."

He laughed, rough and dark. "I'm a Pirate, _my lady_."

He dropped me unceremoniously outside the car, a sleek black Aveo. I stumbled, catching my tender palms against the heavily tinted window.

"And here I thought fast cars were a vampire thing," I said, hooking my fingers under the door handle of the fucking grocery-go-getter. "Or a guy thing. All that power and speed and you want to drive a fucking Aveo? These are for soccer-moms and old people. My mom's '92 Prius goes faster than this."

"Cars are a matter of convenience, and this one is non-descript. Now get in the bloody car before I make you ride in the backseat. Believe me when I say I've considered it."

I did as I was told, if only to prevent being manhandled into the vehicle. He shut the door, keys dangling in hand, wicked smirk across his face. "As it would happen, I'm familiar with the term 'soccer-mom'. Perhaps you are familiar with the term 'child safety-locks'?"

The car beeped, and I groaned as every lock in the stupid car sank down into the doors, preventing even the thought of attempted-escape. Stupid car. Stupid safety locks. Stupid vampire. "_Asshole_!"

I heard him chuckle even as he disappeared into the house. Stuck in the car, I couldn't help but wonder how he knew about soccer-moms, and if he thought they were as delicious as baristas.

**Alistair**

**!#$%^&**

I plucked the last lengthy strand of hair from the pillow, dropping it into the bag I'd nicked from the kitchen. I'd taken with me the rope used to restrain her, and returned the torch to the garage. Counters had been wiped, dishes cleaned, towels burned. There was no sign of her existence here, as I had intended. Had it been wise, I would have burned the place to the ground, but I was sure her abandoned wreckage of a vehicle would draw enough unwanted attention. The farther we were from these parts when finally she was noticed to be missing, the better.

Without a word, I tossed her suitcase as well as my own battered pack into the backseat of the vehicle. The air was stifling in the small car, as the air is in any small space. She was cross-legged in the passenger seat, belt strapped across her chest, glaring heatedly at the dash.

She was silent, a thing for which I was unerringly grateful.

The car purred quietly as I backed out of the drive, each bump in the gravel jostling the girl where she sat. She said nothing, nothing but a squeak escaping her lips as her hand flew out to steady herself against the center console. I'd have laughed if I hadn't been preoccupied keeping calm.

Loathe though I was to admit a weakness, I had never found comfort in small spaces. The air felt cloistered; the walls repressing. I imagined it was a Vampiric reflection of my last days as a human, spent shackled in the brig. Such things linger with you, long after death. I was sure if I were to only close my eyes, I would taste the dank, stale salty air, feel the heavy, rusted metal cuffs where they bit into the bony flesh of both my wrists and ankles.

"Hey," the girl said, leaning slightly over the console. "Where the hell did you go?"

"My apologies if I don't find your ever spoken word riveting and worthy of my attention," I replied, completely unaware that she had been speaking at all, so deep in my own introspection had I become.

"Har, har, har. I said it was fucking cold in here," she snapped, fingers curled into the sleeves of her cream-colored sweater. "Maybe you forgot, but I don't run at a frosty 42 degrees like someone else in this car I know. So yeah, I'm cranking the heater in this bitch." She turned a knob on the front panel of the vehicle, sinking back into the seat as the cab was flooded with dusty, warm air.

Suddenly, alongside the creeping, claustrophobic panic lay the tantalizing scent of the fresh, young, coursing blood beside me. My control was impeccable, honed by centuries of selective feeding. I could hardly be considered a fickle eater, but if given the choice, there were standards in which I had been feeding from for the last several centuries. Women were never my first choice. Often their blood lacked the proper nutrients to sustain me in equal length as to that of a man's blood. I had considered the theory that this was due to various levels of anemia common among women. That and a woman's blood was almost unbearably sweet and somewhat addictive in nature. There was no doubt in the lore that many a vampire preyed solely upon the fairer sex, and among our own kind it was easy enough to understand. They were, in short, delicious.

The girl's scent was sharp, crisp like an ocean breeze. It was decidedly feminine, floral in nature, but inviting none the less. Faintly, I could smell the underlying taint of venom, trapped in her scarred flesh. It did nothing to distract her alluring redolence. Had I been a lesser man, she'd have been dead upon the doorstep.

But the heat filled the cab, immersing me in her aroma, until I could very well nearly feel it sticking to my skin. The rush of venom was to be expected, coating my throat and mouth. The teetering line of civility and animal was fine, leaving me balanced precariously on the edge of both. She breathed, and I _tasted_ it, a rush of body-warm, summer-scented wind clinging to my lips.

"Are you okay?" Her voice cut through my shifting thoughts. "Hey."

"Shut _up_," I growled, pushing back another mouthful of venom and need. Every word had been spoken with a new wave of lilac-breath, forcing me to keep from breathing. It was like choking, sinking, drowning; the claustrophobic panic rising triple-fold until I was sure that I would snap and bloody well kill her as we drove through the night.

Suddenly cool air washed over me from the left, a rush of midnight wind. I breathed it in, filling myself with an abstract sense of calm, until I was no longer dancing on the sword's edge of animal and man. Swallowing back the last rise of venom, I cast the girl a cautious glance. Her fingers trembled over the window-button, eyes wide in her pale face.

"Thank you." My words were stiff and stilted, scraping across my throat with little growls.

She didn't speak, perhaps sensing the danger in it, choosing instead to nod her head, curling back into her seat. The night air tugged at her hair, raising goose-bumps across her skin, and I took pity upon her, lowering my own window a fraction, and raising hers. It was enough to keep me collected.

**Bella**

**!#$%^&**

The small satisfaction at seeing my suitcase did nothing to lift my spirits as he pulled out of the drive-way, knocking me about with every bump and hole. My complaints would go unheard I was sure, or would be met with a tongue to sharp for me to handle. I said nothing, letting it pass with grinding effort. In silence, I clung to the hope we'd run across some city with wi-fi, and I'd be able to get word out to someone. I knew that I was banking heavily on his admitted ignorance of computers, but_ fuck_, it was all I had.

He was quiet, and I was content with that. I had very little wish to be berated for being human, while being treated like a BLT not worthy of his consumption. The man could bitch and moan like the best of them. It wasn't as if I had asked him to cart me across the country. Whatever good deed he believed he was doing, he was so sadly mistaken I wanted to laugh. Although, that could have very well been the lingering hysteria working it's way to the forefront of my mind. If he believed I'd be welcomed back into the Cullen Collective with pale, sparkling arms wide-opened, he would be sorely disappointed.

Pet or not, they had abandoned me, turned me out without a word. I wondered if perhaps he was right, if perhaps every word he'd spoken had been the blunt and painful truth. He hardly seemed a man to mince words or lie. Maybe I was a pet, never loved, but perhaps adored. That is until I'd proven too difficult to manage. When all the fun had been had with me, had it been so easy to simply give me up?

Oh God.

I was nothing more then Paris Hilton's chihuahua, Tinkerbell.

I wondered half-heartedly if they had replaced me with a slightly fatter, off-colored version of myself, and just pretended that I was the same, when the chill began to get to me. Business-casual though it was, the cable-knit cords on my sweater were no match for England, apparently.

"Hey," I said, ineloquent as always. My obvious request for acknowledgment went wholly unnoticed, much to my growing irritation. "Hey!"

His eyes snapped from where they had been staring intently through the windshield, to me as I leaned slightly over the console. "Where the hell did you go?" I asked.

His reply was as dry as ever as his eyes flickered back onto the road with all the flippancy of a stiff, dead guy. "My apologies if I don't find your ever spoken word riveting and worthy of my attention."

"Har, har, har. I said it was fucking cold in here. Maybe you forgot, but I don't run at a frosty 42 degrees like someone else in this car I know. So yeah, I'm cranking the heater in this bitch." I twisted the heat on viciously, inadvertently shifting it to full blast. The heat was instantaneous, a perk of a pussy-car I guess. My cold skin tingled where the heat touched, but already I could feel the feeling in my toes return.

I could blame it on nothing else but a long-learned understanding of the nature of vampires. He didn't move as it happened, didn't shift or breathe, I _felt_ it; the whole body tingle as the hairs on my neck and arms raised to a stand. My heart pounded, stuttering in my chest as if it knew what was happening, as if it could taste the danger in the cold sweat that formed above my lip. It should have said something about my person, about my very make-up, my incorrect nature, that my first instinct was not to run, not to throw myself from the car.

"Are you okay?" I whispered. "Hey."

"Shut _up_," he snarled, eyes clenching shut as we raced along the winding country road. I was going to die, and not from the bite. He was going to smash us into another fucking tree.

And yet, my first instinct was not to jump, to save myself. My first instinct was air, fresh and clean, to wash away whatever it was that had his eyes shifting from a violent red to endless pits of black. My hands scrambled across the door panel, catching the handle before pressing the window key. The tiny motor's grind screamed in the silence, suddenly washed away in a rush of wind.

The hair on my neck and arms had fallen, the sweat on my brow had cooled; my heart however, pounded faster still as his fingers relaxed their grip on the steering wheel. I watched him swallow, watched the black of his eyes receded until it was nothing but a pin-prick in a sea of red. My hand still shook as the wind pulled at my hair, twisting it in knots around my neck and face.

He swallowed again, licking his lips. "Thank you," he said roughly, as if it pained him to do so. I said nothing, panic receding with a quake of trembles. Really, what could I say to that?

**A/N So, this chapter was pretty much all about building Alistair's character, as well as something broaching the area of respect and trust. Tolerance, maybe?**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hit and Run Chapter 9**

**Author **: Lifeless Lyndsey

**Summary **: After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life.

**Pairing:** Bella and Alistair

**Warning**: M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know.

**Word Count**: 2,396

**Beta**: VampishVixen - the awesome in my sauce.

**Disclaimer:** I own nearly nothing, not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!

A/N: Firstly, I'd like to say that I have no idea how the UK road systems work, so when those come up in this fic, I'm pretty much talking out my ass, kay? Yeah. Anyway, this chapter is a little longer, with a whole lot of Alistair, because you people seem to like the little bastard. It's okay, so do I.

_**Previously on Hit and run...**_

_The hair on my neck and arms had fallen, the sweat on my brow had cooled; my heart however, pounded faster still as his fingers relaxed their grip on the steering wheel. I watched him swallow, watched the black of his eyes receded until it was nothing but a pin-prick in a sea of red. My hand still shook as the wind pulled at my hair, twisting it in knots around my neck and face._

_He swallowed again, licking his lips. "Thank you," he said roughly, as if it pained him to do so. I said nothing, panic receding with a quake of trembles. Really, what could I say to that?_

**And Now...**

**Alistair**

**!#$%^&* **

"I have to pee."

Cross country travel was not new to me, but being trapped within the confines of a bloody car with a human was. "I refuse to believe you need to use the facilities _again," _I said through my teeth. "We only just stopped for fuel."

"We stopped three hours ago, and I have to pee," she replied, arms crossed across her chest. "I've already pissed myself in front of you once. I don't even have my dignity to keep me from doing it again; unless you want me to pee in this car right now, I suggest you find a fucking _facility_."

Sure though I was that my eye was twitching in its socket, I refrained from replying, swerving to the muddy roadside instead. The girl lurched forward as I pulled to a sudden stop, seat belt knocking the wind from her chest.

"What are you doing?"

"Make use of the facilities if you must girl, but please hurry. I've no desire to be kept waiting by your walnut-sized bladder." I clicked the appropriate button on the door panel, unlocking the door to make a point. "Hurry along now."

"Facility?" She looked back out the window, her expression pinched. She shifted in her seat, and it was obvious that the need was imminent. It had occurred to me that some research was in order, as I'd no recollection of the frequency of bodily functions. "Those are trees."

"Yes they are," I replied sharply. "They can also be considered the very first facilities in history. Now, get out of this car this instant and do your business."

"It's dark," she complained, the hesitance obvious in her voice. "I can't see a thing."

Wordlessly, I flipped the headlights back on, their bright beams catching every speck, bug and dust moat inhabiting the air.

"This is unacceptable," she grumbled, hand wrapping hesitantly around the door handle. "What will I wipe with?"

"Wipe?" The question escaped unbidden, followed by a mental picture and I grimaced. Humans, myself included whilst I had been as such, were truly disgusting. "That is of no concern to me." And it really wasn't. I hardly found the thought appealing.

Her brow furrowed in a wrinkle, mouth pulled into her own grimace and perhaps the idea was just as unappealing to her. "You are such an asshole."

I had been called worse of course, and by people of far more importance then her. "Remove yourself from this vehicle and do what we have stopped for you to do, or I shall remove you myself. Do you really wish my aid in this?"

"Fine!" she spat, throwing up her hands before throwing open the door. The car chimed as she stomped off the shoulder of the road, stumbling through the soggy grass of the shallow ditch. She glared at me over her shoulder, before hiding herself behind a tree.

It hardly mattered that I couldn't see her, for over the sounds of cricket and creature alike, I could hear her. I thanked whatever Deities still listened that the wind whipped the other way, saving me from the stench.

Her shriek echoed against the night, only to be followed by a groan. Though I sensed no danger, I was sure the girl was more a danger to herself then most things, and I left the car, cutting a careful path through the muck and mire of the ditch to where I had sensed her last.

I found her of course, behind the tree. Both pants and panties were caught around her ankles, caked in mud and blades of grass. Clearly, she had fallen backwards onto her arse, hands splayed out in mud up to her wrists.

"Shit!" she hissed, hand slipping across the sloppy ground as she struggled to right herself. "Oh my God, stop staring at me!"

"What else would you rather me do?" I asked, laughing through my teeth. I leaned against the tree as her foot slipped out from beneath her, sending her sliding through her own puddle of urine. Disgusting.

Her shoulders slumped, knees falling together limply, keeping her from being exposed. "I fell in the mud. It's not even just mud. It's pee mud; it's my _own _pee mud." Oh dear sweet Poseidon, there were tears in her eyes.

"Desist this instant," I demanded, growing more alarmed with every tear that slid down her pale face. "Stop _crying_."

"I fell in it, and now I can't even...I can't even..." I braced myself for the pending fit, wincing at the pitiful way her lip began to tremble. "I can't even get up!" she cried, hanging her head forward as tiny sobs escaped her, shaking her tiny frame.

I cringed as she continued to cry, giving up all attempts to right herself. "Girl," I growled, crouching before her. "Stop crying."

"It's not that easy!" she all but bellowed into the quiet night. "I crashed my car, cracked my head open, you up and kidnapped me! Everyone's going to think I'm dead, and now I'm sitting in pee-mud and I can't even get up!" she sobbed, waving her hand flippantly as she spoke; tiny droplets of mud splattered across my shins. She kicked her leg, struggling to free her foot from the confines of her mud-caked pants, but the attempt was in vain. "I hate you!"

"I'm hardly fond of you myself, if it makes any difference." Deciding to not to further acknowledge the tears streaming her face, I moved forward to acknowledge the other, more pressing predicament. She truly was stuck, unable to form any sort of traction in the mud. "Shut up for a moment, and perhaps I can offer you some assistance."

"You can't help me!" she cried, dropping her hands back into the mud. "This is all your fault."

"I did not push you down into your own urine," I reminded her, eyeing her hands with disgust. I'd have to pick her up, loathe though I was to do so again. "I am offering to help you up. Hold your hands up if you would, please. And if you touch me, I will drop you straight back into the muck, make no mistake." I crouched before her, wrapping my hands firmly around her soft waist. Lifting her swiftly, I held her as far from my person as my arms would allow. She squeaked in protest as I manhandled her across the roadside swamp lands. Her mud covered feet dangled off the ground, pants still hanging from her ankles, snagging the tall grass as we cut a path through the muddy ditch.

Much to my utter disgust, her impertinent sniffling had yet to desist as I set her down beside the car, and I was at a loss on what to do. In a moment of final desperation, I concluded that it was better to ignore the crying altogether.

"Take off your clothes," I demanded through my teeth, struggling not to yell at her lest there was some level of crying beyond that of which she was still at.

She sniffed, taking a deep, stuttering breath. "What?"

I closed my eyes, taking in a long, hard calming breath. "Take off your clothes, _please._"

She looked up at me through red-rimmed eyes, the indignant distrust returning to her expression. "Why?" she asked, tugging at her sweater to keep herself covered.

Walking around toward the driver's side of the vehicle, I rummaged through my pack, freeing a well-worn but passably clean white undershirt. "Your clothes are filthy, as are you. I've no need to carry them with us, stinking up the car more then you will surly do on your own. Discard the clothes, and get in the car."

"You want me to get into the car naked?" she asked, scandalized. "I'm not taking of my clothes, you can just deal."

"I will not be the only one in the car, and though my sense of smell is far superior to yours, I doubt it will go unnoticed by you. We have many a mile to drive, girl. Do you really wish to stew in your own filth?"

"Why do I have to be naked?"

"I've seen the contents of your suitcase; you've one set of jeans left. It would be better to find a suitable place for you to wash before you donned them," I replied tightly, my faulty patience wearing thin.

She glared, shifting awkwardly on her restrained feet. "You really expect me to sit stark-fucking-naked beside you, while you drive down the fucking road? What the fuck do I do when we get somewhere? I can't exactly walk into a gas station in the fucking buff."

"Nowhere in my request for you to remove those vile garments from your body did I say that you would be remaining undressed. If you're quite finished being a bloody harpy, undress and put this on." I dropped the shirt on the trunk, giving the girl a pointed look. "We've dallied long enough. Remove your clothes before I remove them for you."

"Kinky," she replied dryly, hands still curled around the edge of her sweater. "Would you turn around?"

I obliged her request but not without comment. "I've seen you soaking wet and in nothing but a t-shirt girl. Near enough to naked, and it did nothing for me. We've discussed this before; you are food. You've never found a salad the least bit attractive, I'm sure. I am incapable of seeing you as any kind of...sexual being," I replied, grimacing. Really, the idea was rather disturbing. "As I have said, to me you are little more then a sandwich."

"If you have no intentions of eating me," she said, voice muffled by her sweater, "then I am hardly food."

The sweater was thrown at my feet, streaked with mud where I assumed she had wiped her hands. "Sandwich," I replied pointedly, as her jeans and under-things joined the pile, "Throw your things into the ditch, and get your arse into the car. Shoes too, they'll be the worst of the lot."

"Yes-sir, right away sir," she grumbled, as I sank into the drivers seat. "Pop the trunk, would you?"

She crouched carefully, gathering her spoiled garments with ginger fingertips, and chucking them with a _plop-plop-plop_ into the tiny marshland that made up the ditch. Splaying a grubby hand on the window, she wiped the soles of her feet against the drier grass before tugging the door open, self-consciously tugging at the hem of the borrowed shirt.

"Is this blood?" she asked, fingering a rusty stain near the collar.

I needn't look to know that it was indeed blood, and not new. Perhaps the shirt hadn't been as clean as I had thought. "Most likely," I replied, offering no more for an answer. She'd really no desire to know, anyways.

"Oh," was her own reply, hands falling back to tug at the hem. It fell mid-thigh, offering her the delusion of privacy, and I wondered if she was aware that I could easily see through the threadbare cotton.

Concluding that it was perhaps not in my best interest to make that fact known, I said nothing on the subject. "If you would be so kind as to hand me the map from the glove compartment," I said, as we pulled back onto the road. "The roads have changed since I last traveled by car. As a tracker, it's far more easy to simply let my senses lead."

"You're a tracker, then?" the girl asked, fishing the folded map from the compartment. "Are there many trackers? It's not really a gift is it? I mean...there are just some vampire who can track, and some who can't." She unfolded the map carefully, spreading it out over her bare legs. "It looks like this road cuts into the highway about sixty miles from here. They'll be a restroom there, I'm sure."

I nodded, letting my eyes roam across the map, noting each road we'd need to take. "Tracking is less a gift and more an ability, like the ability to sing. While it is true that many vampires are born with the talent, those who are not can still learn it. Though they will never compare to those vampires whose talent is innate, it would be enough to service them."

"So, there's nothing special about being a tracker, then?" she asked, folding closed the map with practiced ease. "Dime a dozen, or whatever?"

"A tracker, yes. But then there are those vampires who are both gifted, and trackers, far more rare I assure you. For example, the Volturi's own Demetri is most renowned in the Vampire world for his tracking. Once he's gained the tenor of one's mind, he can find them anywhere with very little effort."

"Are you gifted like that?" she asked, leaning back in the seat, mud-smudged legs crossed at the ankles. "Is he better then you?"

"Demetri?" I replied, finding the conversation neither riveting nor droll; if nothing it was more easily accepted then our previous hostile interaction. "If it were a race, I am sure he'd leave me in his dust. However, that hardly makes him a better tracker."

"So," she said at length, propping her bruised elbow on the door panel, chin cupped in hand. "Are you gifted too?"

"Whether I am or not is really no matter to you," I replied curtly. I'd never been one to share my talents, though I surmised enough had been assumed by Aro to consider me a foe. I was only lucky that his gift-hound Eleazar had departed the Guard before Aro ever had the chance to get his bejeweled fingers on me. "Know only that I am brilliant at what I do."

She shrugged her slender shoulders, the hem of the undershirt riding up her thighs. The car was toasty warm, her hypnotic scent washed away by mud and piss. She sat silently for eight minutes and twelve seconds before pressing more questions upon me.

"I don't understand how some vampires can be gifted and others not," she began. "Does it have something to do with the blood line?"

"In my own personal theory, yes and no," I ventured. "It is said that a Vampire's gift is an exacerbated talent he or she had when human. For example, it is easy to assume that Jasper Whitlock was predisposed to understanding others when human, this leading to Empathy once turned."

She nodded, leaning her head against the window. "So it has nothing to do with the blood? Or the venom, or whatever? A stronger vampire should make stronger vampires, right?"

"That particular theory is not commonly acknowledged, though I've considered its merits. It's true, as I have said, that Vampires of purer blood look different, and tend to be stronger physically. It is not so far a stretch to assume they would create far more gifted vampires."

"What about your sire? Was he particularly gifted?" she asked, eyes closed as she leaned against the window.

"I would not know," I replied, steel in my voice. "I killed him."

No more questions were asked.

**!#$%^&**

"If you had an iPhone, this wouldn't have happened."

I resisted the urge to growl, far past weary since the girl had decided that fear for me was beneath her. I rather preferred the cowering and trembling girl from only hours prior, to the snarky, jaded thing that had replaced her beside me.

"If I had an iPhone, I would be traceable," I replied, fingers clenched around the steering wheel as we inched along the congested roads, cars bumper to bumper for miles. "This is ridiculous."

"It's a combination of early morning construction and a three car pile-up on the M6. I don't know what you expect," she replied tiredly, pushing a tangle of curls from her face. "You should have used your Tom-Tom."

At this I did glare, lips pulled back in a silent, biting growl. "My _what-what_?"

"Tom-Tom," she pointed to a tiny screen jutting from the dash with more buttons than could be useful. "It gives you directions, and warns about shit like this. Where are we headed anyways?"

I closed my eyes, gritting my teeth. "Your voice is rather grating in the morning, did you know?" I said in way of reply. A moment passed before I acceded, "South France. Marseille."

Uncrossing her ankles, she leaned forward in her seat, shirt slipping farther up her thigh. "Alright," she said, biting her lip as she pressed buttons in no particular order on the map-device. It beeped, high pitched and whiney, and she smiled, pressing two more buttons before leaning back. "Okay. If we turn off onto M62, and then head east and get on the M18, it's pretty much South from there. This should warn us about any more construction. We'll skip the toll that way, and unless you've got gloves or something we're gonna have to."

I eyed the box warily, before returning my eyes to the miles of cars before us. "This is a...computer thing, is it not?"

"Yeah, pretty much," she said. "We'll need gas soon, yes? I'd really like to get washed up."

"Get some sleep," I replied, too short-tempered to deal with any more of her grating chatter. "I'll wake you when we fuel."

She glared weakly at the order before curling into the seat, pulling the shirt to her knees. Much to my aching relief, her breath evened out as she was lulled to sleep by the purring of the vehicle. I was left to contemplate the situation I'd found myself in to an orchestra of poor-running cars and spastic horn beeping from over-caffeinated, indignant commuters who expected Moses to appear, staff in hand, parting cars like the bloody red sea.

I should have just eaten her and been done with it.

The car moved into at an achingly slow crawl, requiring so little of my attention I felt myself wandering. The girl slept silently, sprawling out slowly in the passenger seat. Her legs un-curled inch by inch, head lolling to the side. Her face was curtained with a fall of tangled curls, but I could see the freckles splashed across her nose.

I was fairly sure I admired freckles, long ago when aesthetics mattered to me. Indeed, aesthetically, the girl was not exactly unfortunate. Petite yes, to the extreme that it was obvious why she wore no bra, but she was shaped well enough, and curved in the appropriate places; tiny waist, round hips, things expected in a woman. Though she did nothing for me, I understood the appeal. She had an injured, doe-eyed look about her, something I could see the Cullen boy falling prey for.

How he could look past the disgusting nature of humans was beyond me. Barely a day with her, and I'd already witnessed the failure of bodily-function control as well as the obvious ill-grace of humans. How any vampire could look at such an embodiment of all things disgusting and see something remotely sexual was beyond me.

Perhaps I'd been too long a vampire, and lost sight of which I'd use to hold beautiful. Though, if what few memories I held still rang true, a pirate's life was far from beautiful. There were women of course, port to port, but when you've spent twenty days passed aboard a ship of filthy men, it is easy to admit your previous standards would hold no bearing. Still, the girl was pretty enough, and half naked beside me; if she were a vampire, there'd be no question.

**Bella**

**!#$%^& **

The car lurching me to a stop jostled me from my sleep, as my body was jerked against the seat belt. "Jesus!"

"Alistair actually," the bastard said, pulling the keys from the ignition and stepping out of the car. "Meet me in the station once you are clean and dressed. I'm assuming you must be hungry by the god awful sounds your mid section has been making for the past half-hour."

I rolled my eyes, tugging self-consciously at the thin shirt, trying not to wonder what kind of show I probably put on while sleeping. Never had I wished I wore a bra more then in those moments, as the cold hair tingled across my skin, perking up the A-cups. But when you're built like a boy, why bother?

"You're hilarious. Has any one ever told you how hilarious you are? Fucking hilarious. Now, could you be a dear and get me my fucking pants out of my suitcase. I'd rather not flash the interstate my lily-white ass bending over the seat, yeah?" I'd admit I wasn't exactly the epitome of charm and grace upon waking, and sleeping in a compact car wasn't exactly a night at the Hilton. "Socks too."

Wordlessly he opened my suitcase in the back seat, rolling my last pair of jeans, a plain grey thermal, and black socks into a ball, chucking them at me with rough force. "Bastard!" I called out at his retreating form, watching him disappear into the Shell station.

It was early yet, the rising sun still lost behind a veil of clouds. I surveyed the parking lot quickly, before making a mad, barefoot dash to the bathroom. The soles of my feet stuck to the sticky bathroom floor, and I hated the stupid Vampire a little more for it.

Grimacing at my own awful reflection, I peeled away the borrowed shirt, letting it fall to the floor without an ounce of guilt. With a tired sigh, I gathered a wad of paper towels from the dispenser, scrubbing at the mud smudging nearly every inch of my lower half. I had grass in my ass-crack, for fuck's sake. The bubble-gum pink economy soap stung my skin as the dirt was washed away, leaving it pink and raw, but clean.

Wiping my damp skin down with the crunchy brown paper towels, I turned back to the mirror. My eyes were ringed with dark purple, my left cheek lined with a long, thin scab from the crash. I prodded at the base of my skull, wincing as I touched the still-swollen bump. Even my wrists were bruised from the bastard's insistent man-handling.

Every inch of me ached; a combination of crashes, restraints, and sleeping in cars. I ran my shredded, scabbed palms under the cool water, letting it soothe away each tiny ache. I was standing stark-naked in a gas station bathroom, inspecting my own molten skin, all the bruises that tattooed my body. The post-accident whiplash was setting in, lancing each muscle in my body with burning, aching pain. Two long, thin lines of purple-green decorated my torso, shoulder-to-hip across my torso, and hip-to-hip, bruises courtesy of the seat belt. My collar bone was the worst, stained blue-black with a dark, curved bruise where I had smashed into the steering wheel, as no airbags had been deployed.

Leaning against the sink, I curled my fingers around the basin's edge, each nail still encrusted with dirt, giving myself just a moment, a fucking _moment_, to relax. The tiny fit of hysteria back at the roadside didn't surprise. It was there still, crawling beneath my skin like bugs, keeping me on constant edge. I wasn't going home, or finishing my trek across Europe. No one was going to notice I was missing; there was no one to report me missing to. Alistair was going to find the Cullens and they didn't want me either; didn't want me as a burden, a danger to them, and to myself. I understood that, I really did. But when Alistair realized that even the Cullens couldn't be bothered with me, what would happen then? Would they let him kill me? I didn't think so, but I couldn't be sure they could _stop_ him. There was more to him than he'd ever say, and even more than I ever wanted to learn.

I pushed the thought away, returning to review my reflection. My hair was a mess of knots and tangles complete with more than a few bits of leaves. I worked my damp fingers through them with careful ease, separating each curl and lock till they fell limp and sad around my face. I pulled the whole sad mess into a sloppy pony tail with a band I'd kept around my wrist before grabbing up the thermal and pulling it on, every muscle protesting as I stretched my arms above my head. Even worse was the pain that radiated through my back as I pulled on the jeans and socks. By the time I'd finished dressing, I just wanted to die. And pee. I picked the latter with another tired sigh, washing my hands one last time before clicking the light off and unlocking the door.

The bastard was waiting outside the bathroom when I had finished, leaning casually against the dirty brick wall. "Oh no," he said face pinched with open irritation. "Take your bloody time in there, it's only nearly full sunrise."

I sneered, glaring with all the heat I could muster through my pain. "That's really not my problem."

His cool hands wrapped around my upper arm with less force then his previous man-handling. "I will make it your problem," he growled, leading me into the gas-station. "Get what you need, so we may leave."

The scowl didn't leave my face as I collected a travel-sized container of Tylenol, a packet of mini-muffins and two bottles of water. His eyes narrowed as I set my things on the counter.

"What?"

"Are two bottles of water really necessary?" he asked, frankly. "It's going to result in five more restroom breaks."

"Probably," I replied, as the bored-looking guy behind the counter rang both bottles up. "You know, or I could just get none and maybe I'd pass out from dehydration and not be able to put up a fight when-" I realized my rant had gone from sarcastic snark to rising anger when the cashier no longer looked bored but worried. I bit my lip, wondering what if maybe I could alert him somehow that under no circumstances was I with the bastard willingly.

A cool arm slid around my waist, tugging me gently. Suddenly my back was pressed flush against the bastard's chest, his iron grip holding me in place. "Always joking, this one," he said, flashing the cashier a wide grin. The guy flinched, his gaze dropping as he rang up the rest of my purchases.

"I know what you're thinking," he whispered, cold breath raising goose bumps across my neck. His arm, for all that it looked at ease around my waist, tightened threateningly

"Maybe you want to scream, tell him I've kidnapped you. Maybe you're pleading with your eyes when you think I won't notice. But do you really want me to have to kill him? Because I will," he promised in a purr, mouth pressed against my ear. "You don't want me to have to do that, do you?"

It was hypnotic, in a way that Edward had never been, for all that he had dazzled me. I was lost in it, the sound, the scent, control slipping away from me. I felt myself leaning into his touch, melting against his frigid embrace. "I'm...I'm sorry," I heard myself say to the cashier, though I hardly meant it. "You know how long car trips can get to you."

"Oh yeah, totally," he replied with obvious relief, handing me my things back in a plastic sack.

"Keep the change," the bastard said from behind me, his voice still sounding less like a growl and more like smoke. He tossed a wad of crumpled bills onto the counter, leading me firmly to the car. I was still dizzy with it, with his scent and proximity, with whatever it was that made vampires so dangerous, as he shoved me into the passenger seat.

We were on the road again, when he finally spoke. I hadn't moved or said a thing since I'd been deposited in my seat, still sea-sick with the sensation that he'd fucked with my head. It felt like the bastard child of a hangover and withdrawal, and only served to scare me further.

"It will fade soon," he assured me in a quiet rasp. "I'd think wisely before considering screaming again."

I nodded shortly, still sick with the aftermath of hypnosis and my general fear to bother speaking. Nothing was registering except the crawling of my skin, not the sound of the highway, or the vibration of the car. He sifted beside me, dropping a bottle of water into my hand, accompanied by the Tylenol.

"You should eat too," he said, as he merged onto our exit. "Regardless to what you choose to believe, I do not wish you harm."

"It doesn't matter," I found myself saying, twisting the top of the bottle anyways. "You're going to kill me anyways."

"I said I wouldn't," was his terse reply. "And I won't."

I laughed; a bitter wretched sound that made my bruised neck ache. "Carlisle won't want me. Why don't you get that? They got rid of me. I was too much of a problem; a danger to them and to myself. What are you going to do if they don't want me back? You're going to kill me."

"Carlisle would never permit it," he said, just as I believed.

I shrugged, tossing back the Tylenol. "It won't matter, in the end. Carlisle won't want me, and you're not going to let me go free."

**A/N Kind of ended that on a morose little note, didn't I? I'm already working on some crazy things for later on in this fic. Sorry this chapter took so damn long to write. I'm easily distra...oooooooh, butterfly. Also, thank you to AmbersValley on twitter for retro-activley helping me work out what I was talking about when it came to the roads and what not. You're a peach 3**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hit and Run Chapter: 10**

**Author : **Lifeless Lyndsey

**Summary : **After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life.

**Pairing: **Bella and Alistair

**Warning:** M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know.

**Word Count** : around 4.5 k

**Beta:** VampishVixen - the awesome in my sauce.

**Disclaimer: **I own nearly nothing, not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!

**A/N: **Extra double super warning on gore, and mature content in this chapter. Read at your own risk please. I'm not giving anything way, but part of this might squick/upset some people. Sorry. It's brief though.

_**Previously**_

_"It doesn't matter," I found myself saying, twisting the top of the bottle anyways. "You're going to kill me anyways."_

_"I said I wouldn't," was his terse reply. "And I won't."_

_I laughed; a bitter wretched sound that made my bruised neck ache. "Carlisle won't want me. Why don't you get that? They got rid of me. I was too much of a problem; a danger to them and to myself. What are you going to do if they don't want me back? You're going to kill me."_

_"Carlisle would never permit it," he said, just as I believed._

**Alistair**

**!#$%^& **

"I am not aware as to when my treatment of you brought about this...reaction in you," I said after two hours of stifling silence. I was disturbed that the shift concerned me, but it itched like a scratch that couldn't be reached. "What have done to offend you into silence?"

"My voice is grating," she replied quietly. "I'd have thought you'd appreciate the lack of incessant chatter."

"As would I," I admitted. "However, I know not the cause of your rather sudden indisposition. Inexplicable events often lead to chaos. I'm not a fan of mysteries. Are you unwell?"

She shifted in her seat, one leg tucked up underneath her, as she turned to stare out the window. It was raining again; fat droplets of water obscuring the window glass, the green and grey of the tree line blurring like a Monet painting. "I'm fine."

"You are not," I accused. "And as much as I'd like to say that the rampant emotions of young human girls mean very little to me, I cannot. You are in my care and I feel compelled to ask. What is the matter?"

"What's the matter?" she snorted, breath fogging the tinted glass. "I've gone over it with you before. Have you forgotten already? I crashed my car and was kidnapped. That's what's the matter. And on top of that, you go and just...mind-fuck me, like it's nothing. I can't handle this. Just kill me. I'd rather be dead then deal with this, I can't do it. No one fucking _wants_ me, you stupid bastard! No one will care that I'm gone; there's no one left to care. I've ran them all off. It could be a year before my mom and dad even start to fucking wonder.

"Do you know how many times I've disappeared? It's not the first time I've crashed my car either! I drove my truck off a cliff! So yeah, I'm not gonna be Miss Happy Fucking Sunshine; sorry if my attitude isn't convenient. You want to just drop me off at the Cullens' like a lost puppy. Well here's a news flash for you, because you're just not fucking getting it! They do not want me. And I'd rather be dead than be manipulated by another one of you sparkly fucking corpses. So sharpen up those teeth, now."

I let her catch her breath, the angry red of her cheeks fade away as she thunk'd her head against the cool glass. What had began as a monotone drawl had quickly escalated to shouting. "Is that what this is about?" I asked. "The Lure?"

"Is that what you guys call it?" she asked in return. "Edward use to do that to me sometimes, when he thought I was being unreasonable. I still don't know if it was intentional, but... I have no control in this situation, okay? You're holding all the cards and I'd like to think, with the exception of setting you on fire the one time, I've been fairly compliant. Please...please just don't do that to me. Don't take my mind from me; all I have left is what's in my head. You...you can't understand."

Oh but I could, I really could. The memories were vague from years of vicious repression; little more left than vague mental-pictures of slanting metal bars and the splash of waves as they slapped against the hull. I could smell the salt in the air; hear the tumble of the lock as the key was turned. The heavy oppressive feeling never left me; the jagged feeling of all control being stripped away, like the meat from your very bones. It's a hard thing, to forget losing everything, every inch of yourself, being reduced to a begging, huddled mess sequestered away into the darkness with nothing but your mind to call your own and barely that. Oh, I understood.

"I apologize," I said sincerely. "I'll not do it again."

She swallowed, eyes shining threateningly. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Just...yeah. Thanks."

I nodded shortly, glad to be rid of the awkward silence. "Perhaps you'd sleep better in the back seat," I suggested. "You need sleep."

"More than you realize," she agreed. "Yeah...I'll...do you want to stop so I can hop in back, or do you just want me to crawl over the divider?"

"Can you climb over the divider without injuring yourself?" I asked, no hint of amusement in my tone. I truly wondered if she could accomplish such a simple act of balance; history dictated otherwise.

She glared, dropping her seat back to a full recline, and sliding along till she fell into the back seat. "Easy," she said, reaching forward to pop the seat back upright.

I plucked the crinkly plastic bag of muffins up off her seat, dropping it onto her stomach. "Eat."

"You know," she said casually, tearing open the bag. "Food makes poop."

Glowering into the rear view mirror, I resisted the urge to snatch the bag back. "That was unnecessary, I hardly needed to know."

A moment passed before I heard her swallow, the scent of chocolate and artificial banana filling the car. "Consider it a friendly reminder that eventually I'm going to need to poop," she laughed, rummaging for another muffin. "And depending how long this little road-trip's going to take, you may be around for my time of the month."

"Your what?" I replied, only half-interested. Of surety, any subject would be better then human defecation.

"Menstrual cycle. We'll have to stop for tampons. And chocolate. And I'll probably cry some more."

My fingers tightened around the steering wheel as my last nerve was frayed. "Absolutely bloody unnecessary! Go to sleep!"

**Bella**

**!#%^&**

"...Poseidon's bloody bollocks."

I had woken this time not to the jolting stop of the car, but the crunch of metal and plastic, followed by an impressive display of swearing-skills. If I hadn't believed he was a pirate before, I'd have been convinced by his ability to creatively cuss.

I sat up slowly, letting my eyes adjust to the filtered, afternoon light. The bastard continued to grumble under his breath, as he dropped something rather large into the passenger seat. "As amusing as it is to listen to you bitch, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

As I have said, I wasn't exactly a picture of propriety and charm upon waking.

"Satellites!" he barked, a growl in his throat. "Bloody buggering satellites."

I sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I felt better; no less sore but at least rested. "J.F. Christ, what the hell did you do to the GPS?" There, where the innocent little Tom Tom had been, was now a vicious hole in the dash, complete with exposed, sparking wires. "Fuck. You killed it."

"Satellites!" he barked again, dropping something into my lap. I picked up the Tom Tom manual he must have found in the glove compartment, its pages wrinkled where it had been gripped too hard.

"You were reading and driving?" I asked, not awake enough to entirely understand what it was he was raving about.

His face seemed to look more pinched at my comment, as his reflection in the rear-view mirror scowled at me in disgust. "As if something as simple as reading could affect my ability to do something a simple as drive. You are missing the point entirely. Satellites!"

"So you've said," I replied, "Several times in fact. How the hell are you going to return the car all fucked up like this? Did you even bother to get rental insurance?"

"You assume I intended to return the car at all," he said, his voice no less annoyed. "And that too is entirely beside the point."

I yawned, slow and drawn out, stretching my arms up over my head with a groan. "Yeah, well. I don't get the point, do I? So unless you want to get to the point, can I ask what you do plan on doing with the car? Because, you know, they expect you to return it."

"They also think my name is John Bonham; I put very little trust into their intelligence," he replied, as haughty and gruff as ever. "The point is that this Tom-Tom thing is in association with bloody tracking satellites."

"Well yeah, that's how they work," I said, grabbing his pack from where I had kicked it off the seat in my sleep. "Isn't John Bohnam the drummer from Led Zeppelin?"

In the reflection of the mirror I was sure I had caught the ghost of a smile, but it was swiftly squashed by an even deeper scowl. "And yet you continue to stray from the point, girl. This thing," he gestured to the lump of twisted metal and plastic, "Could be used to track us. I've sensed vampires drawing closer. I can't be sure they aren't following us."

As I dropped the pack into the seat, the left-side pocket split open at the seams, spilling out in a rush. I frowned, poking at the small contents, an amused smile curving my face.

"They'd have to know what vehicle we were in to be able to track us, and since I'm assuming you used one of these," I plucked several white plastic cards from the seat where they had spilled, "To rent the car, they wouldn't know it was you. Jesus, how many fake IDs do you have? Seriously? Billy Gibbons? I wouldn't peg you for a ZZTop fan. Oh my god, Hetfield? You listen to Metallica?"

His head spun on his shoulders, before snapping back to the road. "Are you...are you going through my pack? Desist at once, you obnoxious little cretin!" His hand flew back, snatching the cards from me in a blur of shimmering white.

I chuckled, grabbing another one of the seat with a snort. "Oh my god! Nigel Tufnel? You listen to Spinal Tap! That's just...that is so awesome."

"Stop going through my things this instant!" he growled, snatching that ID from my hand as well. "I'll have you know Spinal Tap is a very underrated band."

"I'm not going through your things, the pocket split," I explained still smiling. It felt awkward to laugh, painful almost, and not only because of the cut across my cheek. "And I agree with you whole heartedly about Spinal Tap. It's just that it's hard to picture you as a fan of eighties rock."

"I am a fan of all rock," he said, tucking the IDs carefully into his pocket. "Though I will admit the eighties had very little to offer in the way of acceptable music. The sixties, however, and some early seventies, I have found to be the most pleasant."

"You're a Beatles fan, aren't you?" I asked, tucking the rest of the cards deep into the split pocket. Pulling the lever between the door and seat, I dropped the seat back and crawled over, pushing the mangled GPS out of the way as I plopped down awkwardly.

He snorted, inelegant and dirty. I found it impossible to figure out how he laughed without smiling, but he seemed to manage it effortlessly. Bastard. "I'm British, it's unacceptable to not like the Beatles."

"So is sensing Vampires part of your gift?" I asked, segueing into the next subject. I wouldn't deny my weird interest in his possible gift, or rather any vampires' gift. Truth be told, I always felt a little bad for Rosalie and Emmett, stuck with special little fuckers for siblings. How the hell did you live up to mind-reading?

"It's part of it," he admitted, with obvious reluctance.

When no more answer was forthcoming, I pressed on. I didn't want to fall into another awkward silence, nor did I want to converse with my kidnapper, but my options were limited. "What's up with all the IDs?"

"As I have told you, I do not exist in any capacity other than I simply _am_. I've taken great strides to remain beneath the radar, and pride myself in the ability to have done so for as long as I have. It is not as easy as one might think. The monikers help me when I've need to make purchases or the rare occasion I've found myself confronted by various forms of the law, in situations where it was not acceptable to just eat them. I've had four hundred and sixteen aliases over the last five hundred years; prior to that it wasn't as necessary."

"So there's like...no record of you at all?" I asked, oddly disparaged by the idea. "That's kind of sad. I mean, when I die, I won't be known for much, but I'll be remembered." I paused, frowning. "Maybe not for anything good, but I'll be remembered."

"I do believe there is proof of my prior existence. By neither birth nor death records, but I was notorious on the waters and my piracy was well documented." He didn't shrug, not like a normal person would. No, he never seemed to waste his infinite energy on pointless motion. "Few know my name, the fewer the better. You may rank yourself among those few. At any rate, I'm hardly disparaged that my continued existence goes unnoticed; indeed I prefer it that way. I've no plan to die."

"So...you're just...planning on living forever then, just like that?" I asked, snatching my other bottle of water up from the floor. "It must be so strange watching things come and go."

"I've held very little in regard, even prior to my death," he replied in the same soft, growl. "Even now, there are very few things in which I hold any esteem. Carlisle is, perhaps, my only friend. I've made it a point to visit him at least once a century since his birth."

"That would mean you've only seen him three or four times," I replied, wondering how he could consider the man his friend.

"Yes," the bastard said, with no inflection. "Besides Carlisle, I've been careful to make very few affiliations."

"What about sex?" Those three unfortunate words escaped my mouth without permission, hanging awkward and heavy. "Oh my god, I am so sorry."

"It's something of a curse for you, this foot-in-mouth disease, isn't it?" he noted, one immaculate eyebrow ranged. "If you must know, I've an...associate for such needs."

"A hooker?" I squeaked, sounding more incredulous then I'd have liked. "Vampires have hookers?"

"They most certainly do," he replied primly. "Prostitution is the eldest form of employment, among both your kind and mine. But no, as it were, that isn't what I meant. I mean only that the lady in question is not a friend, but someone I find acceptable to have...associations with."

"A fuck buddy?" To my surprise it came out more incredulous than the hooker thing. "Seriously? You have vampire-booty call."

"If she isn't my friend, she's hardly my buddy. But yes, I've had regular dalliance with her. You are far more curious then I am comfortable with," he finished, eyeing me as he drove.

And I was; this wasn't exactly a breaking news flash. I really had no right, asking questions like that. Then again, the bastard had kidnapped me, so I felt I could ask whatever the fuck I wanted. Propriety had been pretty much tossed out the window when he'd tied me to a fucking chair.

"What is she like?" I found myself asking, turning in the bucket seat to rest my back against the door, legs crossed.

"I do not find your sudden Spanish Inquisition amusing, you know," was his reply. He turned his head just so, giving me a pointedly annoyed look.

I shrugged, taking a drink from the lukewarm bottled water. "Eh, could be worse. I could be crying."

"She's a redhead," he replied almost instantly, face twitching with irritation. "Part of an Irish Coven. I met her during my travels."

"And?" I pressed, leaning against the window. "What's she like?"

"Why do you wish to know?" he asked, his tone taking on a faint curious tone. "It hardly concerns you."

"I just want to know what kind of vampire'd fuck you." I said, perhaps more bluntly then intended. "I mean your kind of..."

Yeah, I'd pretty much gone past foot-in-mouth to head-in-ass with that question.

Alistair's head turned like an owl's, slow and creepy. He continued to drive, unperturbed by his obviously divided attention. "Are you insinuating that I am unattractive, girl?"

"No...no. You're uh, you know. A vampire. You're all sparkly and beautiful and shit. I mean, you look a lot different then the Cullens...just...cut different or something. Older. Whatever. That wasn't what I meant."

"Then what," he smirked, the only near-smile I'd seen to grace his face, "_Do_ you mean by that?"

"Just that you're...you..." _are an utter and complete ass_. I knew enough to not say it, but it must have been written on my face clear enough.

"Could you be referring to my generally gruff and unappealing demeanor? Or perhaps my less than amicable disposition? Possibly my considerable affluence for self-preservation that some, if not many consider to be hysterical paranoia?" What had been a half-smirk faded into a dangerous, glinting smile; there was something in it that both lured and terrified me. His teeth caught the light filtering through the tint on the windows, glimmering like white-mixed mercury as he continued. "Or is it that you mean to say I'm a bit of a bloody arse?"

"Uh, I was just...thinking just the last one, really, but uh..." I shrugged awkwardly against the door, my fingers fiddling with the bottle cap. "One of the above. Whatever."

"I am not unaware of how I am perceived, nor am I unaware of how correct many of those perceptions are. I am an arse, and quite paranoid, but I'm content with my lot. There are very few I consider worthy of my time or conversation. I've no need to dally with empty-headed twit-vampires who can't see past their cocks or tits. Carlisle had always claimed I was..."He paused, eyes narrowing at nothing. "Carlisle's moved."

"What? Wait...what?"

His head fell to the half-cock it seemed to take on occasion, as if he were deep in thought. "He's traveling, with his wife I think. They're more eastbound since last I checked," he replied, almost absently. "No matter, barely a change in course."

"How do you know," I asked at once. "Is that your gift? You have like...vampire GPS?"

He chuckled, dark and dirty. "You might call it that, but I am hardly limited to my own race. And at any rate, it's hardly your concern."

"Well, maybe not but I'm curious," I said, unable to keep the petulance out of my tone. "I know it shouldn't fascinate me, but it does. So you can see humans too?"

"Aye," he replied. "My natural abilities are not as honed as the Volturi guard. With a scent, he can track anyone, anywhere in the world. I need no scent, but my skills are less honed; pointing me in a general direction, rather than a location."

"So...it's like a compass."

He nodded shortly, his answer shorter. "Very much so."

**xXxXx**

We had four hundred and something miles between where we were and that ram-shackled house when I got another bathroom break. I needed to fucking go, but the sun had been too bright and the fucking bastard wouldn't stop unless he had the ability to monitor me without revealing himself. I'd have pissed myself just to spite him had I a pair of fucking pants to spare. We'd been on the road for nearly eight hours, a good chunk of it spent idle in the traffic jam. I was tired, sore, and generally un-fucking-pleasant.

"How the fuck do you keep your eyes hidden without contacts?" I asked. I hadn't even thought about it before, too fucked in the head from the lure.

I could tell that his patience with me was about as thin as mine was with him from the way his fingers clenched dangerously on the steering wheel. "I wear my hair in my face and avoid eye contact. Most people have no desire to make eye contact with me as I generally look very much like a hitchhiker."

"Or a homeless person," I offered meanly, as he pulled up to the pump. "What do you do if someone asks?"

He yanked the keys from the ignition. "I tell them I have Rutilus Inda, which causes me to bleed from the eyeballs. Then I tell them that it is highly contagious." He pushed open his door. "They generally ask no more questions. Be about your business, and meet me in the station. And remember my warning, won't you?"

"Yessa massa," I replied, eyes mockingly wide. "Quit being a dick or I'm not gonna wash my hands."

"Disgusting," he grumbled, leaving me to find my way to the restroom.

**xXxXxXx**

I did wash my hands, of course. I wasn't going to sacrifice my own personal hygiene for some petulant vendetta. It's not as if it would make up for the kidnapping or general fucking disruption to my life. I was pretty sure I could have gotten e-coli from the bathroom-stall door handle alone.

Pushing up the sleeves of my thermal, I bent down over one of the dirty, chipped sinks that lined one of the walls, splashing water into my face. It was still morning, but I felt jet lagged and disoriented from sleeping too long the day prior.

Just as I was contemplating the scab across my cheek in the tiny mirror, I felt a hand, hot and sweaty, wrap around my mouth. Instinctually, I bit down, tasting dirt and sweat against my tongue.

I was shoved roughly forward, face smashed into the wall. Bile rose in my throat as I was pinned by my hair, pinned between the sink and a body; a man's body. He rutted against me, crushing my hips against the porcelain, his free hand tugging at my loose jeans. I felt them betray me, slipping down a little more with each tug. God, it fucking hurt, every bruise in my body lighting up with pain. I struggled, too weak and too tired to put up any fight. Whoever it was, he'd pulled my head back too far, keeping all my screams choked in my throat; but when his finger slipped in my hair, I bellowed, my cut-off word echoing against the hollow walls. "ALIST-"

My face met the wall again, new pain blooming across my cheek. There was no sound, just buzzing, like white noise in my ears as I felt my pants drop to my knees, cool air hitting my skin.

God, I thought. God this was really happening.

This had to have been the worst weekend of my life.

**Alistair**

**!#$%^&**

I'd only just topped of the fuel in the car when I heard it; a muffled cry, half my name echoed ten-thousand times in my ears. Much to my torn displeasure, my preservative instincts betrayed me, my feet carrying me far faster than was applicable in public. It wouldn't matter, I assured myself, for the petrol station was far out, without a soul to see me. But still, the fact that I had done such a thing stayed strange in my mind.

That cretin, that atrocious waste of skin and existence had the girl pinned jack-knifed over the sink basin, her pants at her knees. I'd only just caught him as he smashed her face against the mirror, a spider web of cracks blooming across the glass. The girl stumbled as I tore him free from her, my teeth sinking into the fat flesh of his neck with no real hesitance.

With a squelch, I bit through his throat, spitting out a mound of flesh onto the floor as blood poured down the scum's body, staining my own in the process. The girl squeaked, her back pressed against the wall, pants unbuttoned around her waist now.

"Get out of here," I growled, caught between the crossfire of Alistair and Vampire. The scent of her fear filled me, drawing growls from my throat. "Get out of here!" I snapped, fingers clenching the scum's arm so tightly, I felt the bone shatter beneath my palms.

She nodded, stumbling her way from the restroom as I turned back to the garbage that was the man I held in my hands. His heart beat still, now tainted with my venom, and I grimaced as I set my mouth back to his throat. His blood was dull, thinned by alcohol and who knew what else. It poured down my throat, filling unpleasantly in my stomach. It was too close between feedings, I hated over-indulgence. But it was drain him, or let him change, and I was loath to let such a monstrous waste of human life continue.

I found her beside the car, heaving up the meager contents of her stomach; water and muffin. Her cheek was ripe with another bruise, but thankfully free from glass. "Get in the car," I demanded, shoving her into her seat. There was little time to waste; we needed to be gone from that place post-haste. Thanks be to Poseidon the cashier was gone, pissing-off in the back room much to my relief. I'd have killed him if I'd had to, but I'd have rather just left.

The cement was scored with lines of rubber as I peeled out from the station, racing half-hazard down the highway. "We'll need to ditch the car," I said, cutting off the main road, onto a lesser used country-road. "By scent alone, I know we were the only customer in the station for several hours. The clerk could easily identify the car."

The girl nodded, arms wrapped around her middle, the very little color she had regained gone from her skin. "Okay," she said quietly, fingers digging into her sides.

Shock, I thought, from trauma and trauma again. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I grimaced at the mess I was, chin covered in blood, drying against my pale skin. My eyes were brighter, pupils still dilated dangerously against the red. Yes, I thought. She was afraid.

"I am sorry you had to see that," I said carefully, listening to her heart beat rapidly in her chest. "Are you well?"

"I'm...I'm okay." She replied quietly. "You...you got there in time. I just..."A hysterical little laugh escaped her. "Jesus you..."

"I killed him," I supplied cautiously.

"Yeah," she shook her head. "Yeah, you did."

_**A/N **So yeah, Bella's having a pretty shitty weekend, isn't she? The next chapter will open with more about her reaction to seeing Alistair do that. Scary shit, you know?

**Also** to all you **Once Bitten, Twice Shy** readers! OBTS was nominated for TWO awards! And I was nominated, much to my bafflement for best author! Woah! Now, I'm not asking for much, because being nominated for something like that is wicked in its own right. But I'd love to see OBTS take home some gold. So, if you can, vote for me!

www ( . )glospawards( . )blogspot( . )com


	11. Chapter 11

**Hit and Run Chapter: 10**

**Author** : Lifeless Lyndsey

**Summary **: After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life.

**Pairing:** Bella and Alistair

**Warning:** M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know. There may be some rather descriptive gore in this chapter as well. Just saying.

**Word Count : **around 3.5 k

**Beta: **VampishVixen - the awesome in my sauce.

Disclaimie Disclaimer: I own nearly nothing, not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit

**PREVIOUSLY. **

_"I am sorry you had to see that," I said carefully, listening to her heart beat rapidly in her chest. "Are you well?"_

_"I'm...I'm okay." She replied quietly. "You...you got there in time. I just..."A hysterical little laugh escaped her. "Jesus you..."_

_"I killed him," I supplied cautiously._

_"Yeah," she shook her head. "Yeah, you did."_

**AND NOW, **

**Bella**

**!#$%^&**

I was staring at the dark red stain splashed across my dirty socks; the exact place where a chunk of neck-meat had hit me. I'd stared at the neck meat too, if only for a minute. There was hair in it. Neckbeard. Shock. I was in shock, I thought. I'd puked, I remembered that. There had been puking. Had I not just peed, I'd have probably pissed myself as well. Again. But all I could do now was stare at the blood on my foot. Looking anywhere else really wasn't an option.

He...he was covered in it. Blood, soaking him from chin to toe, painting all that pretty white skin in tones of rust and red. His eyes were wild a storm of black and flawed ruby. The snarl hadn't left his face as he shoved me into the car, blood trapped in-between his teeth like very demented Kool-aid smile. It was all I could smell, the blood.

I had never seen anything like it, anything so brutal and beautiful. The sound made as his teeth sank effortlessly into the skin. It was a non existent sound, but I felt like I heard it anyways, like the sound a knife makes sliding through butter; you may not hear it, but it's there on some level. The non-existent sound was followed by a squelch. It was an incomparable squelch, because nothing could sound like that; the sound of flesh torn from the body. The only sound worse was that of the same flesh landing on my foot. It was the sounds that got me the most I think; the orchestrated chorus of growl, groan, and whimper.

Beyond that was the sound of blood, wet and dripping, pouring, spurting, spattering the walls like a goddamn chain saw massacre. With frightening clarity, my eyes traced the points of pressure, where each one of his fingers broke through the man's flesh, little rivets of blood welling to the surface.

He'd...he'd ripped into the man without a blink, blood pouring down his body like a goddamn fountain. The arterial spray had splashed across me, a hundred drops of blood like bullets. I could feel it, sick and sticky on my skin, soaking through my shirt and through my jeans. _Jesus_. The blood was everywhere. I could taste it on my mouth, feel it on my eyelashes, like tears. Holy fuck, the blood. Just...it was everywhere.

The image would be etched into my mind forever as if it had been carved into my fucking corneas. The bloody bend of the man's body as Alistair snapped bones with a pinch of his fingers. There was no man there, there was only a Vampire. It didn't terrify me as it should have, it fucking _fascinated_ me. I could hear the bone crack as he'd bent and crushed my attacker. I'd heard it, every growl and cry, even over the sound of blood pounding in my ear. I'd never seen anything like it.

I'd just witnessed the very top of the food chain devour one of my own kind with the same ease that I'd use to eat a Pop Tart. That, I realized, was how he saw me; food that talked too much. I was the lamb that didn't get slaughtered, but watched as all the other sheep were offered up on the altar. I was the chicken on the farm you couldn't eat for sentimental reasons. That is, until you ran out of other chickens.

The bastard was right; I really was a sandwich.

I'd been trapped, pinned against the wall by nothing but my own _fear_ as he growled at me. Every word wet with blood, begging for me to leave. I couldn't move, couldn't look away from all that fucking..._ferocity._ It was that moment that I saw Alistair for what he was; a vampire, pure and simple.

And to my horrific mortification, I liked what I saw.

Not to say that I liked the man himself; no, it was the vampire behind the facade. He was rude, and mean, and generally an asshat. It was the vampire; I felt as if I was seeing one for the first time. A really fucking ridiculous notion, to be sure. And it wasn't as if I had never seen a human-drinker, indeed I'd nearly been the human to the drinker. But...even so, I felt as if I'd been altered; paradigm shift, they call it. They were not monsters, not like I had feared them. Not to say that they were not the stuff of nightmares; no more so then the man who now lies on a bathroom floor. No, they were not monsters; they were the Ultimate Being. They were It, the highest of the high. I could see the appeal.

I felt sick.

That had been about when I'd puked.

"I am sorry you had to see that." His graveled voice cut through the sound of blood pounding in my ears. "Are you well?"

"I'm...I'm okay. You...you got there in time. I just..." I nearly laughed; the kind of laugh that once started will not stop without a hard smack to the face. "Jesus, you..."

"I killed him," he said carefully, watching me out the corner of his shining eyes.

"Yeah. Yeah, you did."

Everything seemed to shut down after that.

**Alistair**

**!#$%^&**

Thirty-six words were said, preliminary and blunt. She lapsed back into silence and I'd welcomed it easily. I hadn't a notion as to what could be said under such circumstances. Instead of words, I lost us in a rush of twists and turns, leaving the road behind us in a stretch of white stripe.

It was half past three, several hours and several cities come and gone, when I'd pulled off the road, parking the car at yet another gas station. The image was uncanny; they all looked the same. The girl hadn't said a word in hours as I grabbed both our packs from the back seat and manhandled her from the car to another bathroom.

She said nothing, not a word, and I grew...concerned.

"Girl," I said, as gently as I could manage; which is to say not gently at all. Every thing seemed harsh now, as if I expected myself to treat the human differently. I was not good with such things; I was not versed in such endeavors. This was Carlisle's plight; he'd a love for all things abandoned or hurt. I arranged the listless girl onto the toilet with wary hands, careful to aggravate neither her fresh nor aging bruises.

Water sputtered from the sink taps, lukewarm and rusty. I peeled away the blood-soaked shirt from my body, grimacing as it clung to my chest. Neither my trousers nor shirt would be salvageable this time. I'd more manners with my usual feedings; a sense of waste-not-want-not had seemed to linger with me, post death.

Meticulously, I cleansed the blood from my skin, wiping pink trails through the crusted blood with damp paper towels. I'd managed to clean away every last speck of that man's fluids from my body, and redress myself in fresh clothing before I allowed the niggling of concern come into effect. I'd hardly put her needs before my own, I wouldn't allow myself the weakness.

"Girl," I said again, turning to the toilet. The bathroom stank of human in ways I'd rather not consider. She said nothing, staring down at her toes, completely ignorant horror-scene that was her clothing. Arterial spray, one line jetted across her chest, darkened in the grey of her shirt. Blood splattered across her face, clinging to her cheeks like a mockery of freckles. It was morbid, it was morose, and it was disgusting.

I found I rather liked it.

I felt sick.

"If you cannot undress yourself, be aware that I will do it for you. Time is of the essence here," I threatened, grabbing up her suitcase. There was very little in way of appropriate wear, and to my rather abject horror, mostly undergarments. Gingerly searching through the case, I managed to unearth a militant-green sweater-like dress. Although, I couldn't be sure it was a dress at all, rather an excessively long shirt, but in this pinch it would have to do. I'd have thrown her in my trunk starkers, if I hadn't known her incessant screaming would draw attention.

She made no acknowledgment to my threat, and every minute passed my senses sharpened, alerting me to several new possible threats. It was claustrophobic, the sense of encroachment, and I'd an urge to flee. We were in more trouble than I'd like to admit, and with an exasperated growl I crouched before her, my face contorted no doubt, to display my disgust.

I tugged off her socks first, tossing them on my own filthy clothing. Her pants hadn't been exempt from spatter, speckled and soaked. Feeling filthy in my own mind, I couldn't bring myself to unbutton them. This felt a violation in its own right after her all-too-recent experience. I tore the outside seam at each ankles, straight up her calve and thigh, till the soft denim fabric gave at the hip. I tugged them roughly out from beneath her arse, causing her to slip against the plastic lid of the toilet. I steadied her, wishing all the while that I had never taken her in the first place, wishing that I could abandon her here, in the rest room of a gas station, with nothing but the blood-soaked clothing upon her back. But I couldn't, no, for if she had known too much before, now she'd be the utter death of me.

Abandoning her was not an option, and yet, undressing her was.

My life had taken a strange, strange turn for the worse.

Her shirt slipped up over her head with little effort on her part, smearing more blood across her nose and jostling her arm. She was naked, nothing but a pair of underwear, for which I was unerringly grateful.

Every inch of her naked skin seemed to be peppered with sickly purple-puce bruises. Beneath the bruises were scars, scoring her body like lines on a map, varying colors of pink and white, depending on their age. A body like a battle-land, shoved into the shape of a wisp of a girl. A pirate wore his scars like badges, proudly and without pause. A scar was a story; a body was a book. It seemed to me that she'd written very much in very little time. Impressive.

For a sandwich.

Human nature was strange to me, so long since I'd been dead. But I understood the raise of goose bumps that erupted on her skin where my breath had caressed it. Her heart leapt in her chest, an after-effect to my close proximity. I could smell the adrenalin in her sweat as her body reacted, even if her shocked mind did not.

I pinched her chin between fingers as lightly as I could manage. Her wince was visible, and an apology very nearly erupted off my tongue. I felt bad for her, and it sickened me. Weakness, a weakness I could not afford. Tilting her head to the side, I prodded at the bruise, pressing cool fingers against the heated skin. Her blood beat beneath my fingertips, a thousand burst vessels. Bruised flesh always smelled something akin to over-ripe fruit, too sweet to be inviting.

She made no protest as I manipulated her to standing, pointedly ignoring her pale, abused skin. I tugged awkwardly at the garment, slipping it over her head. "This would be far easier were you to get it in your head to cooperate," I gritted out, slipping my hand up the dress to maneuver her arm into the hole. The entire endeavor was awkward, increasingly so, and her body's mechanical reactions did not help the maladroit situation.

My wrists skated over her breasts, cold skin against warm and her breath caught, eyes flickering. Awkward, this was awkward. Perhaps more roughly than was absolutely necessary, I shoved her arms through each arm-hole, yanking the dress down her body until it fell just above her knees. It'd have to do; I could not be sure how much I could handle.

Throwing my battered pack over my shoulder, I grabbed her suitcase, yanking her from the bathroom. "I'd ask that you didn't scream, but I am going to assume this won't be a problem," I grouched, leading her towards the vile dumpsters. "You mustn't run, do you understand?" I asked, dropping our bags at her feet. "Girl! Do not run!"

We'd no time for this, no time for concern. Loathe though I am to say, I had found the abuse of women appalling, sexual or otherwise, but our current circumstances seemed to be pressing my every limit. With as much delicacy as I could muster, I slapped her across the face. My regular handling of her person had offered me a general gauge for force. What had seemed like a brush of my palm to me had raised a faint, pink print across her good cheek. She hissed, eyes snapping open.

"Shit."

"Do not run," I said again. "You mustn't, do you understand?"

"I..." She swallowed. "I won't."

**Bella**

**!#$%^&**

He pulled up to the dumpsters in a white Honda Civic, at least ten years old. "Grab our things and get in," he barked, unlocking the doors. I tossed my small suitcase and his pack into the backseat, scrambling to get my seat belt on before he peeled out of the gas station parking lot.

He floored it down the highway, wires dangling out from beneath the steering wheel column. "You stole a car?" I asked, finding my voice. "That was fast."

"Mmmhm," he replied almost noncommittally, as he glanced in the center rearview mirror. "What are the chances you have no criminal record?" He asked.

"In England? Not to my knowledge," I replied, tugging the hem of my dress. He'd dressed me, and fuck if that wasn't all kinds of weird, but in light of current events I wasn't going to dwell on it. Yet. Fuck, I should have worn a bra.

He grimaced. "But you have one in the States, yes?"

"Uh...yeah," I admitted, rubbing my aching jaw. His slap had done little more than aggravate my skin, but really my face was looking worse for wear, regardless. "And maybe...it's not a small record. I've been arrested like six times."

His head turned on his shoulders so slowly it was comical. His expression was an ugly combination of incredulous and amused. "For what?"

I snorted, a huff of breath fogging the passenger side window where I had been staring out. "Uh. You know, like...the basics? Trespassing, breaking and entering, vandalism, um, arson. They weren't coming back, so it's not like it mattered. Reckless endangerment of a minor, but in my defense it was Jacob's idea, it's not like I could force the kid to do anything. Assaulting a police officer, but he was talking smack about my dad and I know my dad isn't exactly thrilled about my life choices, but he's still my dad. And one assault and battery, but the charges were dropped so I don't think that one really counts."

His incredulity only seemed to increase with every word. "Bloody hell. So it's safe to assume you have at one point, been fingerprinted?"

I cringed. "You can't really punch an officer in the nose and not get fingerprinted." A hell of a lot more than fingerprinted. I was lucky I'd only seen three days in lock-up for that little stunt.

"Bollocks," he said. "Right, well. This may be a problem."

"Why?" I asked, resting my head against the window. "It's not like I've done anything here, you know? I mean, why would it matter?"

"Besides the fact that your greasy little fingerprints are all over that bathroom, as well as that car, which will have no doubt been seen at the location of a rather gruesome murder?" he asked, raising one brow. "And human law enforcement is the least of our problems. There has been a shift in local vampire movement. I've counted three headed in our general direction."

"Vampires are after us?" _Us_, when did this become us? I hadn't done shit; I was a fucking victim in this. I also wasn't so ignorant that I didn't know any vampire who got his icicles on me would happily show me what a real victim was. "Is it the Volturi?"

"I'd be stupid if I didn't assume it was," he said. "Given the option, I'd have never fed so near Italy, and in the daylight as well. One, I did not just feed; I brutally murdered a man in broad daylight within two hundred kilometers of the Italian border. They will not be pleased. And two, Aro and his bastard brother have been itching to get me in their chambers. This is a good enough reason, you understand. We'll need a change of course. I should have never risked Marseille in the first place."

"Why did you?" I asked, turning in my seat. At this point in our very short and fucked up relationship, I hadn't seen him take a single risk, save for apparently the gruesome murder of men in broad daylight.

"I've a ship in port there," he replied quietly, as if it pained him to admit it. "For if I'd ever found myself needing to flee the area swiftly, you see."

It made enough sense to me. I was pretty sure Marseille was practically on top of Italy. If nothing else, the bastard was a thinker. "Where will we go now?

"Portugal," he replied. "A day and a half's drive if you can limit your need to pee."

"As if I'd need the bathroom, I've hardly drank or ate anything in two days," I replied wearily. In truth, I was worried. I was worried because he was worried. When had I come to trust his decisions? He fucking kidnapped me.

That's some serious fucking Stockholm shit, that is. Well, not exactly, I still thought he was an ass.

"Are you urgently in need of food at the moment?" he asked, turning to look at me. "It isn't safe to stop yet."

"I'm fine. Just...you know. Feed me within the next six hours and I won't die or anything. But you know...like real food. I want a fucking cheeseburger. And fries. And pie. I want pie." I figured at this point it was acceptable to make demands. 

"Watch me as I happily oblige your every whim and command, oh Queen of the Sandwich," he deadpanned, his mouth twisting up into the scary little not-smile. I realized that when he wasn't threatening to eat me, manhandling me, or otherwise treating me as some sort of appetizer, he was okay. For a bastard.

I grinned, much to his obvious befuddlement. "Just call me Princess Panini."

We were well on our way to Portugal when at last he spoke again. "Should I be concerned about your obvious pyro-maniacal tendencies?"

"What? I'm not a pyro," I argued, because really, I wasn't. Where the hell'd he come up with that idea?

"Well, you did set fire to my person and apparently, a house," he replied, and damned if he didn't have me on that.

I laughed, shaking my head. "I didn't set fire to a house," I said, finding myself smiling at the bastard as he drove. "I set fire to _Carlisle's_ house."


	12. Chapter 12

**Hit and Run Chapter 12**

**Author : **Lifeless Lyndsey

**Summary : **After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life.

**Pairing:** Bella and Alistair

**Warning:** M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know.

**Word Count:** 3.5k

Beta: VampishVixen - she did this not even knowing what I had sent her, bless the girl.

**Disclaimer:** I own nearly nothing; not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!

**A/N Okay. I don't love this chapter, but man it was kicking my ass. Which is why it's later than I anticipated. It's more of a filler chapter, but with one major key point where Alistair's perception of Bella shifts; not exactly to respect, but to something. Gratitude, maybe. You'll see.**

**Also, I do a lot of fact checking, but lets face it, the internet is misleading, so if any of the 'facts' Alistair lists are off, don't blame me, blame my trust in Wikipedia. Thatisall. **

**Previously, **

_We were well on our way to Portugal when at last he spoke again. "Should I be concerned about your obvious pyro-maniacal tendencies?"_

_"What? I'm not a pyro," I argued, because really, I wasn't. Where the hell'd he come up with that idea?_

_"Well, you did set fire to my person and apparently, a house," he replied, and damned if he didn't have me on that._

_I laughed, shaking my head. "I didn't set fire to a house," I said, finding myself smiling at the bastard as he drove. "I set fire to Carlisle's_

**Bella**

**!#$%**

"He wasn't in it at the time, of course," I added quickly, upon seeing what I could explain as a look of unadulterated fury upon his face. "But I hated that house. Jacob had gotten me all worked up. Really, he was just working himself up. It was right before he first phased wolf, and he was really touchy. We both were. I think...and yeah, I admit that wasn't exactly logical, but I thought that if I burned it down...they wouldn't ever come back. I knew they weren't coming back for me, but they loved Forks. They'd want to come back eventually, you know, like when I was dead. And I wanted to remind them what they left behind, when they did come back. Like I said, it was crazy. And, you know, I was mad. Seemed like a good idea at the time. "

"Allow me to understand this correctly," he began slowly, fingers curled around the steering wheel. "You set fire to a vampire's house as means of petty vengeance due to the pressure from your pre-pubescent werewolf friend being far too unbearable for you to rise above? Am I correct?"

I huffed, pushing a lock of blood-sticky hair behind my ear. Yeah, I was trying not to dwell on it. I was pretty sure if I puked in the car, I'd get left on the side of the road. "Well, when you put it that way, I sound like an ass hole, but yeah. That pretty much sums it up."

"You know, were you a vampire, you'd be killed." His voice was grave, or as grave as it could be, because he always sounded somewhat melancholy to me. "A vampire's nest is its _heart._ Especially for a coven the size of Carlisle's. From what I know, the Forks House was Carlisle's most beloved property, his home among homes."

I turned away from him, staring out the window, catching rainbows in the water drops as the slid down the glass. "Then I'm happy I did it." A heart for a heart.

"Then you truly are beneath us."

"You know what?" I said, turning to stare at him. "You are a fucking douche bag. If you don't know what that is, I suggest you look it up. I am a human fucking being. I am a person. A girl. Not an animal, or a pet, or a sandwich, dammit."

"Oh well, far be it from me to insinuate you are anything but a lady," he replied. "I must have been mistaken by your sailor-mouth, and utter lack of social etiquette."

"Says the man who fuckin' kidnapped me," I snapped. "What the hell do you know about social etiquette?"

"Very little, I will admit. But I will say this, you are no more a lady then I am a unicorn, and that is to say, not at all. I remember real ladies. Ladies with propriety and grace."

"And bonnets and bustle," I added, letting my anger go. What kind of good would it do me anyways? I was too tired to yell and scream. I just wanted him to drop me off at the fuckin' Cullens so I could leave. It's not like I'd be sticking around there. "But I mean, you were a pirate, I'd think a good ol'-fashioned lass wouldn't be your catch."

He smirked, casting me an amused look. "Perhaps not. A man such as myself saw ports few and far between. When we sought the grace of a lady, it was on the flat of her back. Where comeliness and decorum were attractive in a lady, we sought more the rough-and-tumble sort."

"When there's no time to woo, and what not. Yeah, I get that. I have a lot of respect for hookers," I offered, almost absently. "I mean, they may spend half their time in bed, but their job can't be easy."

"Prostitution in my day was far more organized, and respected in some parts. It was hardly an uncommon thing to see a woman sell herself for the pleasure of it. Not proper ladies mind you, but common-women. It was a job, just as blacksmithing, or baking, but many did it for the sheer pleasure in it. Ladgerda was the only woman Pirate of her times, and a profitable one at that; the price on her arse could buy a ship."

"Did you know her?" I asked, finding the history lesson appealing. His words were like quiet smoke washing away the ache in my head. "Did Pirates have friends? Was there really, like, a Pirate code?"

"Ladgerda? I did. A mighty fine lass, she was. She had a sharp tongue and a sharper sword. We'd run across each other from time to time; it was good business. We may have watched each others hind sides, but a pirate has no friends. It isn't sensible. Who knew better than a Pirate that a Pirate was about as likely to steal the shoes off your feet as he was to shake your hand."

An idea sparked, from where I could not say, but the niggling of gratitude for his well-timed rescue had worked its way to the forefront of my mind. "Hmmm," I said, un-buckling my seat belt.

**Alistair**

**!#%^&**

Her restraint-belt clicked and slid, coiling itself with a mechanical _zip_, into its base. She hummed, maneuvering herself to kneel in the seat. I watched, curious, as she curved her upper body between our seats, elbows knocking into my arm as she leaned into the back seat.

What on Earth was she doing? The dress slid up her thighs, hanging loose on the front of her body. The angle was appealing, the curve of her arse easily followed beneath the cable-knit of her sweater. I'd seen her naked, wearing little more then her skin, and this bit of arse and legs had me in a stir? It wasn't her, of surety; the talk of past conquests had served to shift my mood, so to speak. Bloody sandwich.

She shifted, one knee pressed against the center console, her pale calf brushing the gear-shift. "What the bloody fuck are you doing, girl? Get back in your seat at once."

"Wait, no. I know it's in here, dammit," she grumbled, legs spreading. To my horror and fascination, and ultimately my horror at my fascination, the false leather seat cover offered me a reflection of her panties; nothing I hadn't seen only hours prior, but certainly not at this angle.

She let out a victorious little hum, pulling herself back between the seats, a small white thing in hand. "iPod Touch," she explained. "Dude, Encyclopedia Britannica."

"Encyclowhatica?" I asked, all intelligence leaving me in that one word. I shook myself from distraction only to happy to occupy my thoughts with things not pertaining to lewd up-skirt shots of the girls undergarments. As soon as this situation was behind me, I'd a notion to seek out Maggie. The little red-headed minx could wash away my obvious and somewhat infuriating _itch_.

"Encyclopedia Britannica," she said again, pressing a tiny button at the top of the small white thing. "It's an old application, so it won't have everything but..."

"I haven't the foggiest as to what it is you speak of," I said, irritated. "This is another computer thing. Should you be concerned that I will find out it too has some sort of satellite tracker, and I will be forced to smash it?"

"No," she said, staring at the machine and not me. "It's not online. I downloaded the encyclopedias onto it. I used it for work, you know, for all the statistics and crap that tourists like. What was that chick-pirates name again?"

"Ladgerda?"

"That's the one. Give it a minute. Ha!" She turned to me, a smile wide on her face. "870 A.D. That should give me a better time line to look you up. You wouldn't happen to remember any of your ships' names would you?"

I blinked. Surely she didn't mean..."What?"

"Ship names, you know. What did you call your ship?" she asked, looking up from the contraption, looking expectant and none-too-patient.

"The Misfortune," I replied slowly. "And the Sea Spider. Do you mean to tell me that you can find me in that _thing_?" The notion both disturbed and excited me all at once. Though, having my life's work condensed into a menial piece of new century trash was very nearly insulting.

"Hmm, probably. You said that you were somewhat notorious? Well known enough to be documented?" she said, her eyes falling back to the machine. "There we go. Oh." Her face fell, mouth pinched. "Well, there isn't much, but it's something. Captain Alistair Xavius Webb of the ship Misfortune. Estimated year of birth 849, estimated year of death, 877. That would make you around twenty-eight. There's a bit more, do you want me to read it?"

"No," I said quietly, pulling off to the side of the road. We were far off the highway; taking unexpected, twisting back roads to avoid leaving ourselves open to be cut off ahead. "No, that won't be necessary."

I left her in the car, her voice trailing away in confusion, to the venom pounding in my ears. One-thousand years and more I'd lived, and I hadn't a clue until now. I planted my hands against the engine-warmed bonnet of the vehicle, head dropping in contemplation.

"Hey," the girl said beside me, leaning too close for my general comfort. "Hey are you okay?"

I said nothing, too lost in the phenomenon that was this information. She hadn't a clue as to what she had so easily given me. I felt a combative sensation of loss and relief. The small gift of knowledge served to both devastate and thrill me; it was a reminder of all that I had lost, but it was also something I'd longed to know. It was as if she'd returned a part of myself I hadn't known I'd missed. It felt strange.._.I_ felt strange. Alistair Xavius Webb; I hadn't even known my own name.

Her arm burned me where she'd wrapped it around my forearm. "Alistair," she said, brow knitted. It was only the second time she'd used my name and it was no less odd to hear now, than the first. "Are you okay?"

I looked up from where I had been staring so intently at the bonnet of the car. "I will be."

**Bella**

**!#$%^&**

"Read me more," he asked, pulling onto the road. I didn't know what the fuck was up with his freak out, but I had my suspicions. I'd admit to being a little blasé about his past. I'd realized quickly enough that he hadn't even known his own damn name. And I'd just handed it over, flippant as fuck. "It's quite a way to Portugal still; we've time that needs killing yet."

"Are you sure?" I asked, turning my iPod back on. I'd lied when I said it couldn't be tracked, but I wasn't picking up any fucking wi-fi wherever we were. "You seemed...a little...upset before."

He didn't snort, or smile, but I could hear the humor in his voice as he spoke. "I've only just found out I'm one thousand, one hundred, and sixteen years old. Many a birthday I have missed. And the fact that my estimation was over four-hundred years incorrect disconcerts me."

"How do you lose four-hundred years?" I asked before thinking. It wasn't exactly my business. I'd no idea how he spent his time, not that I particularly wanted to. The man was kind of creepy.

"Indeed, how?" he replied, almost to himself.

"Okay," I said slowly, pulling up the small article on seventh-century pirates. There was very little in the way of information, as it seemed Piracy was only just being documented. Alistair's article was cut short by his assumed death, but I surmised what I could for him from the snippet. "It says you sailed the Atlantic from 868 to 877, building a name for yourself among other English Pirates."

"England was little more than an infant at the time," he said quietly. "King Egbert had managed to find himself dethroned, but he fought to keep it. Prior to his rather inglorious usurping just after my death, he'd ran the nation into chaos. Piracy was a wise choice by my part, as he was very much headed to fail spectacularly as a king."

"Can't blame a man for monopolizing on his situation," I agreed, rather awkwardly as I scrolled through his article. "Two ships listed; the Sea Spider, which was sank in 870, and The Misfortune, which was claimed by a man named Cameron Lorimer."

He growled suddenly, startling me, lips curling back into a smile, but not before cursing an impressive combination of English, Scottish and what I could vaguely make out as maybe Burmese, of all things.

"Lorimer!" he snarled, fingers snapping half a chunk of the steering wheel off. "_Nea nga yea lee thwa sout liet! _Bloody little wanker! _Loo ma thar..._shove hishead right up his arse! _Shinach, P'g mo th'in-_"

"Well, alright then. Is it safe to say you don't like him?" I asked, cutting him off before he ran the car into a fucking tree. "Who the hell is Lorimer?"

His eyes narrowed as he raced down the road, taking every twist and curve in the road ruthlessly. "A mutinous bastard. A traitor!" he rumbled, glaring daggers at nothing. "Lorimer was my second-in-command, my first mate. A right little bugger from the start he was, but he had a spirit about him I respected. Ambitious, ruthless; I made the mistake of trusting him. _Shinach, _sly bastard."

"Is that Scottish? I thought you were an Englishmen," I said.

He gave me a look that clearly suggested I was missing the point. "It happens to be Gaelic."

"Sounds Scottish to me."

"It isn't. What are you implying?"

I shrugged. "I'm not implying anything. It's just that...when you were ranting, I thought I heard a little Scottish brogue in that accent of yours. But what do I know?"

He turned his head on his shoulder like a fucking owl, all slow and creepy like. "Are you trying to discredit my claim to English heritage?" And damned if he didn't sound a little haughty, for a goddamn pirate.

"I'm not! You could be a Burmese whore, and it wouldn't matter to me," I snapped, staring at him incredulously. Really, he was being kind of fucking ridiculous. "You know, you're awfully fucking touchy about this. If I didn't doubt your English heritage or whatever before, I am now."

"I _am_ an Englishman. My father, however, was a Scotsman, and a lying, cheating scoundrel." He blinked, head falling to the side as I'd only seen him do when a particular thought struck him odd. "I haven't thought of my father in years."

Awkward. Why was everything so awkward? "Um...I'm sorry it wasn't a nice memory. I mean, he uh, didn't sound like the best father."

"What on earth are you talking about? He taught me everything I know," he replied, looking genuinely baffled by my assumption of his father. Well then.

"Moving on, I guess." I read further down the article, wondering how we'd gotten so off subject. "Wait. If Lorimer overtook your ship, how did you end up a vampire? I mean, he'd have killed you, right?"

"And bring the wrath of Circe herself down upon him?" he asked, brow raised. Like I knew who fucking Circe was. "To kill one's Captain is to evoke the wrath of every sea-god. The very worst of the worst luck. He'd no sooner kill me then he'd maroon me on an island and risk the chance of me finding him; as I would have, had he stranded me. No, he locked me in my own brig, the little blighter."

It was in that moment I had to ask where my life had gotten so terribly turned around that I was kidnapped, riding shot-gun in a stolen car with a vampire spouting thousand year old Pirate lore. "My life is really fucked up."

"If you are expecting me to disagree, you'll be sorely disappointed," he said from beside me. "Will you tell me how you got so tangled up with our kind? How did you manage to get bitten. How did you end up in England? I've known Carlisle his entire life, and I wonder how he found you. I find myself reluctantly interested."

I let the misconception that I belonged to Carlisle in any conception slide. He had his way of thinking, and nothing I could say would change that. "Will you tell me how you ended up a Vampire?" I countered.

"If I must."

"I was sixteen when I met Edward. He hated me, off the bat. I challenged his control, and he couldn't hear my thoughts. It drove him crazy, but it intrigued him too. It's...it's fucked up, but sometimes I have to wonder if that's why he ever bothered with me. I was a challenge, a mystery. I fell in love. How can you not? Maybe it was hero-worship. Maybe it was just him. But he was designed to be worshiped, to be awed. I was just another in a long line of girls to find themselves fascinated by him. But I was the first he ever acknowledged.

"He pushed me away at first, but it didn't matter. I'd stumbled upon something bigger than myself. When I found out he was a vampire...it never mattered. I was already in too deep. We'd given in to it, the both of us, and things were good. We were in love. I know you don't think so, but it doesn't matter. I loved him, and in some capacity, he loved me too," I said, even as he opened his mouth to comment.

"The attack, shit, it was just random. Just a series of wrong places and wrong times. His name was James, the vampire that attacked me. He was a tracker and I was...just another challenge to another vampire. They killed him and Edward saved me. He tried to leave me after that; he was always trying to leave. I guess that should have said something about me, huh? Well, in the end, he got his way. His brother attempted to attack me on my birthday...I'd just...I'd gotten a fucking paper cut. Edward left me over a goddamn paper cut."

"I can admit I can see his reasoning," he replied quietly, and not entirely unkindly for him, but I still bristled. "I find your human nature exhausting. Your requirements are tedious. You grow tired, hungry, sore. You could not compare to him, it was inevitable he would grow bored of you. A relationship must be between equals, or it is not a relationship at all but ownership."

It hurt to hear, but it wasn't anything I didn't know. I felt the pain spark inside me, smaller than it had been, but apparently everlasting. "I know," I whispered, because damned if I wanted to admit he was right.

"It was wrong of him," he began carefully, every word more cautious then the last, "To manipulate you as he did. While I do not frown upon the practice, human interaction with vampires should always have one of two outcomes. He should have drained you or changed you."

"He swore he would never do either," I replied. "I asked him. I wanted to be changed."

"That he had no intentions of doing either makes the crime all the more punishable," he said. "Now tell me why you came to England."

"That's not a long story," I said, and really it wasn't. It was actually embarrassingly short. "After I punched out that cop, my dad kicked me out, and my mom wouldn't take me in after all the shit I'd pulled. I mean, to be fair, I'd pulled some bad shit, not even just the rap sheet. I'd been fuckin' up for a while, and I wasn't exactly a kid any more. I didn't have anywhere to go, but I saw this ad in the paper for Eastbound Books. They needed someone fast. I was perfect for the job. I didn't have shit; no family to miss, no obligations at home. I had unlimited free time and I needed to get away. The pay was shit, but the covered all my expenses. I loved my job. Then some dude runs me off the road, I wrap my car around a tree, get kidnaped by a Vampire Pirate and carted to Portugal. "

"Your life really is bloody fucked."

And that was the most earnest thing I'd heard from his mouth since the moment he tied me to the chair.

**A/N So yeah, like I said, mostly filler, but Bella did tell Alistair how old he was, his name, and that's pretty fucking epic, really. And Alistair totally, was maybe, just a little, checking Bella out. Just a little. **


	13. Chapter 13

**Hit and Run Chapter 13**

**Author** : lifelesslyndsey

**Summary **: After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life.

**Pairing:** Bella and Alistair

**Warning:** M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know.

**Word Count:** 2.5k

**Beta: **VampishVixen - my beta lifepartner. Our love is real, yo.

**Disclaimer: I own nearly nothing; not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit**

**A/N So this chapter is a bit short, but it's also completely Alistair. Which I don't do often. It's kind of a turning point in the fic, you'll see why. **

**Previously..."**

_"I didn't have shit; no family to miss, no obligations at home. I had unlimited free time and I needed to get away. The pay was shit, but the covered all my expenses. I loved my job. Then some dude runs me off the road, I wrap my car around a tree, get kidnaped by a Vampire Pirate and carted to Portugal. "_

_"Your life really is bloody fucked."_

_And that was the most earnest thing I'd heard from his mouth since the moment he tied me to the chair._

**Now...**

**Alistair**

**!#$%^&**

My mind was still reeling some four hours later, when at last we stopped, well into Portugal. The mere _prospect _of admitting she had surpassed circumstances far beyond means was baffling to me. It could, perhaps, mean that some part of me could acknowledge she was worthy of...something. As it were, I was yet to admit anything. If nothing else, she was extraordinarily lucky.

The girl was drumming her fingers against the door, her other hand curled around her midsection. "I seriously need to eat something," she said, giving the flat of her stomach a pat. "Do you hear this beast?"

"As a general rule I make it a point to never take your gastrointestinal distress into any consideration," I said, eyeing her stomach warily. It had been making some rather impressive noises, as far as organs go. "There should be an exit soon, you might as well maximize on the situation and use the facilities."

The girl shifted in her seat, heart stuttering some what. I could taste it almost, smell it in the air, the subtle shift in adrenalin. Fear; she was afraid, and perhaps not irrationally. "If you would like I can...accompany you?"

She snorted, color staining her bruised and battered cheeks. "No, uh. No. But thank you!" she amended quickly. "I should be able to like...pee by myself, right? I mean, it's not like that...like that's going to happen again or anything. Right? I mean what are the chances of it happening again?"

"I'll wait outside the door."

"Thank you."

She made quick work of her personal business while I contemplated what exactly I was doing offering to...stand watch. Somewhere in this calamity my objectives had become twisted.

I wasn't entirely sure of how to proceed.

She stumbled out of the bathroom, wiping her damp hands down the front of her dress, and throwing me a tired smile. She'd wiped away the blood speckles from her face, leaving the skin pink and raw. Even her hair had been scrubbed at, but the scent still clung, even beneath the thick, antic-microbial smell of the industrial soap.

"Everything went...well, I trust?"

Her snort was quiet, followed by a roll of her tired brown eyes. "Contrary to recent displays, I'm pretty damn apt at pissing by myself. Been doing it for years now."

"Well, as you say, you've offered me very little in the way of evidence on the matter," I replied, finding myself fighting a smirk of my face. Humor was never a thing I intended to share with the girl, and I'd no desire to now. Indeed, the idea was somewhat disconcerting.

"Are you okay?" she asked, curling her warm, damp hand over my bare forearm.

I jerked beneath her touch, turning towards the counters. "Fine. I am fine. Perhaps we should feed you before you perish. I believe I'd prefer it if you ate here, rather then within the car," I ground out between clenched teeth.

"This crap doesn't even smell that good to me," she agreed, stepping up to the counter. "Oh crap, it's all in Portuguese. How the hell do you say '_I can haz cheese burger_' in Portuguese? And a milkshake. Oh, and fries."

Ignoring her questionable dictation, I ordered what I assumed was a cheeseburger, milk-shake and fries. One could never really be to sure. "_Hambúrguer de carne, com queijo, sem cebola, batatas fritas, y shake de morango grande. Ah, e um torta de maçã._" I fished out my wallet, depositing the appropriate amount of this century's currency, Euros, as it were, on the counter.

"Is speaking Portuguese just one of your many hidden talents?" The girl asked, as we awaited the arrival of her food. A chipped plastic tray was slid across the counter by a small brown eyed girl with pursed lips. Her gaze skittered across me and the girl, lingering to long on the Technicolor contusion mapped high across the girl's cheek.

I glared at the little tray-bringer until she stumbled back into the unacceptable monstrosity that these humans considered to be a kitchen. As a pirate I'd lived off of bottom barrel scrapings and questionable meat, and I still could not be sure I'd eat in establishments such as this _McDonalds. _

The girl was blessedly silent, pale fingers wrapped around her beverage, mouth wrapped around the red and white straw. She pulled back, licking her lips and not-quite-smiling. "You bought me pie."

"I bought everything before you," I acceded, gesturing to the tray.

"No, I mean," she shrugged, fingers poking at the neon-yellow wrapper of her food. "I mean, it's just you remembered what I said earlier, about pie. I mean, I totally forgot that I wanted pie, but you didn't. You remembered."

"I did," I confirmed, feeling my insides squirm. It had been a bloody afterthought, not a reason for discussion. Whatever she found herself reading into it, she was surely wrong.

She snatched up the meat-like patty, tearing back the wrapper with a shrug. "Well, thank you," she murmured, before sinking her teeth into it. She swallowed around a smile. "The sandwich is eating a sandwich. This must be very surreal for you."

Watching a human eat was oddly entrancing. The girl, I could tell, was taking great strides to be careful with herself; keeping her mouth closed as she chewed, and utilizing one or two of the coarse, white napkins to dab grease from her lips. I'd not given myself the option of scrutinizing her all two of the previous times she had eaten in my presence, but now there were very few other places appropriate to look.

"No onions," she said, more to her sandwich than I, but as it was not likely to reply, I did.

"The scent of onions is, in my most humble of opinions," I deadpanned, "one of the most atrocious scents ever in human history. I'd almost prefer the smell of animal feces on a hot day. Not only is it horrible, it lingers." I paused, tapping my chin thoughtfully as a memory struck me. "As a human, I do believe they made me quite sick. I stabbed a man in the hand for placing one near my plate."

With a grimace, the girl folded up what was left of her sandwich and set it aside. "That's pleasant. Onion allergies are pretty common; looks like you have a few human habits left." She popped a fry into her mouth, licking away the remnant salt from her lips immediately.

This lip-licking seemed excessive; I slid a fresh napkin across the tiny table pointedly. "As long as it is limited to my aversion to certain vegetation, I'll survive."

The girl's eyes were downcast, toying with a small rectangular card. Her fingers brushed across the tidy scrawl as she popped several more fries in her mouth. Curiosity getting the better of me, I snatched the card from her fingers.

"Hey!" she grunted, around a mouthful of masticated potatoes. She shut her mouth immediately, swallowing down her food. "That's rude."

"I'm incredibly rude," I agreed, frowning at the card. "Women's Hurt House?"

"The other side has a phone number and an address. I think it's an abuse shelter," she explained, breaking off a piece of her pie. "She thinks you hit me."

"Who?" I growled, dropping the card in disgust.

She popped another piece of pie in her mouth, chewing and swallowing carefully. "The girl at the counter. The one you stared at until she tripped over her own feet; not helping your case, by the way."

I glared, sneering. "There is no case; I have never hit you."

She snorted, licking, always with the licking, cinnamon from her mouth. "I beg to fucking differ. You've manhandled me across a fucking continent, thank you very much."

"I've struck you once," I acceded, feeling filthy for the fact. "In desperate measure. We were most likely being pursued, and you were unresponsive."

She shrugged against, swallowing down the last bite of pie with a shrug. "I'm not saying you hit me. I'm just saying you're not exactly fucking gentle. It's like crazy lucky you didn't break my face when you _did_ smack me."

"I've had very little in which to gauge my self, but I'd like to think I've learned a measure of control when it comes to my strength, considering the small amount of time I've spent in your...company."

"Fast learner," she murmured. "Vampire thing."

"Adaptation is key when it comes to beings such as myself," I replied in kind. "I've survived in innumerable situations, though I will admit, this is one of the more peculiar ones."

"Can't be that crazy" she said with forced nonchalance. "Since I'm a sandwich, the car is a lunch box. Look at it this way; you're just bringing your food along."

"You are _not_ food!" I snapped.

Her beverage slipped from her hands, tumbling onto the table, then onto the floor, splattering violent pink cream across the sand-colored tiles. "We have to go," I said at once, pulling her from her half of the booth and out the door. "We have to go _now_."

"Oh, hey, ow!" She winced, tugging in my grip. "Dude, we just talked about this! And seriously? It's milkshake, not a nuclear bomb. They'll clean it up."

"It isn't that," I said at once, agitated that I hadn't caught the bloody thing, too preoccupied with my blurted admission, and the sudden lurch in activity. "Three new vampires just shifted course, directly at us. We need to move; this isn't coincidence. This is _ridiculous_."

Her eyes were wide with a strange kind of worry. "They're...all this because you killed someone too close to the Volturi?"

"In broad daylight, with possible witnesses. It's enough to strike their interest, but as I am sure they know by now that it was I who did it, they will pursue me. As I have said, Aro has been after me some time. My paranoia is not unfounded," I explained. "It is with vague interest, but intent, that he sends search for me. I'm old enough and wise enough to interest him, with a gift he does not understand. He does not know what he will find, only that there is something, but we will all be damned should he capture me."

"Leave me here," she said at once, wincing as my fingers tensed around her arm. This was not the appropriate place for such a conversation, a parking lot. I could count the stares we were drawing, hushed though our conversation was, and I let my hand slide slowly from her arm.

"I know...I know that you think I need to be taken to Carlisle. I know you think I _belong _to him, when I don't. But maybe...look. You said put yourself first, this shouldn't be any different. You have a hell of a lot better chances to get away with out me. I'll...I'll go the Abuse Shelter. I'll go there."

"They'll follow my scent. It's all over you."

"I'll shower. Change my clothes."

"I..."

It was a good plan, a very good plan, and not one I hadn't considered. Indeed, there were several times when leaving her on the side of the road seemed a viable option, but now…now was not one of them.

"They will kill you; if not for your knowledge, then for your association with me."

"What do you care?"

"I..."

I didn't, or at least I shouldn't, and I wasn't entirely sure that I did. I only knew that I had taken her into my care, and care for her to the extent that I knew how, I would. They would kill her, and really I should let them. I'd made a valiant effort to return her to her owner, had I not? It was no reason to bring the Volturi down upon my head. No reason too... And yet...

When in Poseidon's blue sea had I given a damn about the Volturi and their laws? This was far bigger than the girl or me.

"Get in the bloody car," I growled, yanking open the door. "I'll not give that bastard the satisfaction of killing you. Not because of the Cullens, and not because of me. He can piss off! You are a living, breathing, _broken_ law, and I will do everything in my power to see that you stay that way. He cannot have you, nor will he catch me. It isn't acceptable."

"Down with the man?" she mumbled, falling into her seat.

"The Volturi is corrupt," I sneered, tearing out of the parking lot. "Most government is. I'll not give them the satisfaction of _anything_, killing you included. They don't really care that I killed a man near their territory. Aro wants to know what I know; wants to know what I can give him. They want to recruit me, collect me into their army of half-brained bloody idiots who cannot think for themselves. I've no desire to out our kind to the world, but I'll not be made into cattle, and I've no desire to give Aro any kind of information. They bully their position; I'm not the first to find myself manipulated to fall in line, and I won't be the last."

"How would they manipulate you?" she asked, pulling her legs up against her chest.

"You, most likely," I informed her, considering all the ways the Volturi could manipulate me. "But it isn't me that has me most worried. If Aro were to gain my memories, and he would, he would not only see you, but your connection to Carlisle as well. It would be as simple as requesting audience with Carlisle and son. Carlisle would be tried for treason without as much as a blink for releasing you into the wild. While Aro is fond of Carlisle, he is fonder of Power. If the son is nothing, he is sacrificing."

"He'd offer to join to save Carlisle," she finished quietly. "That does sound very Edward-like."

"With Edward's sacrifice, Carlisle would most likely see the inside of a cell, guarded by more men than he could manage," I sighed. "But with the daughter, Aro would most likely free him."

"And have all of them, just like he wants." She sank back in her seat, eyes wide and blank. "Jesus Christ, Alistair, I think you have to kill me."

"What!"

"You said it yourself!" she shouted, slamming her hand on the dash. "Aro can't get them, that's too much power! I...I'm not worth...you can't let it happen because of me!"

"I have no intentions of him getting you!" I snarled, ignoring the way she cringed back. "You will not die, not by my hand or his. Have some fucking faith girl! I've survived one-thousand years; I think I can manage to make it to the water with you in tow."

"And once in the water?"

"It is far harder to follow a scent on the sea," I explained. "The wind will lead them in every direction. Carlisle is in California, near enough to the coast that we'll have no need to breach land till we get there."

"California?" she said, bewildered. "I thought they were lying."

"They told you they were in California?"

" told the hospital in Forks he got a job in L.A. I just figured that would be the last place they would go," she explained, tugging at the hem of her dress.

"It's easier in large cities. The nightlife is just as, if not more, busy than the day. We've only a few hours 'til we reach port. You should try to sleep.

**!#$%^&**

The girl allowed herself to be swept away by sleep, and in return, I allowed myself an appropriate amount of inward berating for my massive bloody mistake. And it was a mistake; this whole thing was a ridiculous mistake. I had been so sure I was doing the right thing when I'd begun this bloody plight, and now, now I couldn't be sure. As it were, I still had every intention of delivering her unto Carlisle. He could do with her what he pleased, though I had no doubt she'd need to be turned and swiftly.

I couldn't help but consider her animosity towards the family, coupled with the fact that she had fought valiantly to keep their identity from me only a day prior, when I had captured her. Although, human emotions, as I recalled, could be very messy and rarely controllable. She was young yet, childhood barely behind her. Her obvious confusion was more a byproduct of latent human hormones then anything else, I was sure of it. She wasn't sure if she hated, loathed, or loved them.

However, to be so angry that you risk the legal wrath that usually follows arson, well, I couldn't be sure she didn't hate them. And yet, she had earnestly offered up her own life to prevent Aro from gaining control of them. She baffled me at every turn; her resilience, her snark, her ability to look past the vampire and see the man. She had, apparently, seen something in Carlisle's child, Edward, though of what I could not fathom. The boy was about as deep as a puddle in July; he'd spent so long dwelling on others' thoughts, I doubted very much he had any of his own.

I needed her to sleep, if only to make her shut up and stop confusing me.

_ 'You are not food!'_

When on Earth had that happened?

**A/N So Short Chapter is short, but obviously things are changing :)**

**Also. I think what Alistair ordered in Portuguese was this, maybe: '**_Hamburger, with cheese, no onions, French fries, and a large strawberry shake. Oh, and one apple pie.'_

**Also, they have been driving for around 800 miles, or 15 hours, including the traffic jam, detours, and potty stops. This, coupled with the 11 hours spent in the house, means that they have been aquainted for _only 26 hours._ I think we've made some kickin' progress in such a small amount of time. **


	14. Chapter 14

**Hit and Run Chapter 14**

**Author** : lifelesslyndsey

**Summary :** After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life.

**Pairing: **Bella and Alistair

Warning: M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know.

**Word Count:** 2.2k

**Beta:** VampishVixen - my beta lifepartner. Our love is real, yo.

**Disclaimer:** I own nearly nothing; not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!

**A/N** So...it's been a while. I guess that's what happens when you post eight times in a month. Anyways, I'm back in the game, hopefully. I'm thinking weekly chapters, hopefully. This chapter is pretty short, but it's here!

_**Previously**_

_However, to be so angry that you risk the legal wrath that usually follows arson, well, I couldn't be sure she didn't hate them. And yet, she had earnestly offered up her own life to prevent Aro from gaining control of them. She baffled me at every turn; her resilience, her snark, her ability to look past the vampire and see the man. She had, apparently, seen something in Carlisle's child, Edward, though of what I could not fathom. The boy was about as deep as a puddle in July; he'd spent so long dwelling on others' thoughts, I doubted very much he had any of his own._

_I needed her to sleep, if only to make her shut up and stop confusing me._

_**Currently**_

**Bella**

**!#$%^&**

When finally I woke, nightfall had only just begun to creep in, blanketing the sky in a mess of pink and orange pop-corn clouds. The bastard had parked the car in yet another gas-station parking lot. Through the haze of awakening I could see him, leaning awkwardly against a phone booth, his expression no less the usual mask of haughty disdain as he barked into the receiver. I was too sleepy to wonder who it was he called, too sleepy to really care.

Cool air scraped across my skin as he yanked the door open, stealing away the long-collected warmth of the car. "Out. I've acquired us a new vehicle. While I've no doubt that the clerk here has the intelligence of an inbred goldfish, and will not notice that his car is missing for several hours to come, I'd rather take no chances."

"You never do," I hummed sleepily, stumbling my way out of the car as he collected our bags, rocks biting into the thin cover of socks with every step I took. I allowed myself to be manhandled into the passenger side of a boring blue Ford Taurus. Monopolizing on the rare comfort offered by bench seats, I curled into a ball, tucking my feet up under me and burying my hands between my knees, my head falling against the window with a dull _thunk_. "Where are we?"

"About an hour and a half from port, actually," he explained, pulling back onto the highway. "I've alerted the Portmaster of my arrival and requested they make ready my ship. I've secured you enough foodstuffs to last the trip. It is possible we will be at sea at minimum a week."

"Is there a bed on this boat?" I mumbled, eyes fluttering closed.

He let out in irritated little grumble-growl. "It is a _ship_, and yes there should be lodgings below deck."

My foot slipped off the soft leather seat, but I was too tired to pull it back. The effort to even mumble replies was draining. "Should be? You've never been on your own boat?"

"Ship. And I've never been below deck," he replied stiffly. "I've no need, and I'm not particularly fond of the...confinement."

And yeah, that made sense. I felt kind of bad for even asking. "Oh." Nobody has ever accused me of being eloquent upon waking. I wasn't even sure I could be considered literate until I had coffee.

"I'll wake you when we arrive," he muttered, letting the conversation fade away like the road behind us.

**Alistair**

**!#$%^&**

Against my better judgment I flicked on the heater, warm air washing over my skin like sunshine. It unnerved me, my lack of response to the hot rush of her scent filling the car. I'd become desensitized to it; let it soak into my skin till it was a temporary part of me. She permeated everything, my clothes, my hair, my very skin. Her scent was trapped in my shriveled useless lungs, taunting me with every mechanical breath. The urge to scrub myself raw inside and out welled up inside me, but there was very little I could do for it. I only hoped that the ocean breeze would wash it away and leave me with some peace of mind.

The girl snored, a snuffled little breath that blew a messy curl fluttering across her face. She was sleeping, sleeping peacefully beside me, as if it were nothing. She did not fear me, very rarely had, and this...this unnerved me as well. I was struck with the contradicting urges to push the lock of hair away, and smother her in her sleep with my bare hands just to hear her heart stop taunting me with its every steady beat. I took some small comfort in the fact that neither urge struck me any harder then the other.

I could hear the slap of splashing waves, and smell the scent of salt heavy in the air long before I saw the ocean. Though I had been no stranger to the sea, my cross Atlantic journeys were few and far between and every reintroduction felt like a homecoming. The girl slept beside me, each puff of her breath painting clouds of condensation across the window. She'd slid into a slow and awkward sprawl across the bench-seat, head pillowed in the elbow-bend of her left arm, as she slumped against the door panel.

Laying half on her side, her legs had stretched, falling from her careful curl. One leg, her right, slid from the slick seat entirely. The other was bent just so, outstretched toward me, toes curling presumptuously under my hard thigh. Each one was spread far enough from the other to be considered lewd even by my own questionable Pirate standards. Madness, utter maddness.

The dress taunted me, riding high on her body, the curve of her arse exposed, half covered by a line of simple white cotton panties, trimmed with tiny lace that left sharp, red, spider-web patterns indented in her pale skin. She was dead to the world, nothing but the gentle rush of warm breath against her arm disturbing little more then a lock of hair every now and then.

I was filled with such a strange and bitter sort of contempt; so at peace, she was so at peace. Never had I met a more accepting soul, even beneath the simmering rage. She'd accepted and adapted with little pause, for there had hardly been a moment to pause at all. Human though she was, and really she was little more, I could very nearly understand her appeal. I was less inclined to be surprised at Carlisle's folly, for the girl was something of an anomaly, and my dearest friend had never been one to turn away from a mystery. I could only begin to question why he rid himself of her so easily, and at such a risk to himself, too.

It simply made no sense to me.

I parked the car beside the water where my ship had been brought to dock upon my request. A man of questionable nature leaned against a sun-washed wooden post to which my ship was tied. I left the girl in the car, casting one last weary glance before making my way to what I could only assume was my dockhand.

"?" The man said with a heavy British accent, extending his hand, a gesture that went wholly un-accepted. He dropped his hand to his thigh, palm slapping against the denim. "Lars Ulrich, yeah? I'll need to see some identification."

I flashed my ID, one of many, hiding a grin, and my eyes as well, in the shadows of my hair. The light overhead flickered and the man stood taller, nodding sharply before jerking his head back towards my ship. "She's fueled and stocked, just like you ordered, will you be taking her now? Have you any bags?"

"Just the three," I replied curtly. "I need no aid beyond the matters of my vehicle."

"We can park 'er here for a fee, and charge your account, ," the man explained, holding out his hand. A pity that, I'd have to avoid this port for a while once they realized the car was...liberated.

It is to my shame that I admit I had not given the girls appearance, or rather, her _disappearance_ much thought. A mistake on my part, a rare one at that. I knew in the moment I saw the man's eyes widened, that this would not be as easy as I hoped. He caught sight of her through the windshield, battered, bruised and sprawled across the seats, and gasped.

Yes, I'd admit, had I not been a vampire, I'd be convinced she was dead as well.

"That's...that's the girl from the news; the American girl, Bella!" The dockhand wheezed, hands flying for his cell phone. "Bloody hell!"

With a tired sigh, I knocked it from his hands, inwardly pleased as it smashed against the ground. One less fucking mobile. "That won't be necessary, of course," I growled, casting a quick glance toward the girl, who was surprisingly still asleep. "Mmhm. This is going to be very painful, but if you could refrain from screaming, that would be wonderful. She's had a rough few days, and is really very tired, you understand?"

No manners, men of these days; he screamed like a bloody girl but it was lost to a rush of bubbling, gurgling blood as I tore ruthlessly into his throat. He tasted marginally better then the near-rapist, if not a bit salty from the sea air. I should have stopped for a proper Mediterranean, but his inlander-native blood would suffice for the trip.

He died swiftly, struggling all the way as his knees buckled and his hands grasped weakly at my wool coat. I felt better for it, less on-edge, so to speak, as I carried his cooling body aboard my ship. It wouldn't do to leave him dock-side to be found by who ever it was who was looking for us. And there were no less than six at my last count.

My gift was a thing of awe, if I might say so myself, and I might. It was an existential gift, like a burning in the back of my brain. I was, at every moment, keenly aware of all vampire activity anywhere. And if I focused, I could find the general direction _anyone. _There was no need for a name, or a scent, just a _want _to find them. It was limited, I will say as much, that the location was not exact, unlike Demetri, or some of the lesser trackers, but it was different. There wasn't anything I couldn't find; I wasn't limited by the living. With enough want, I could find _anything; _vampire, human, object-alike. A gift to compliment my living days if I had ever save one; for I had always been a formidable pirate, and there were no seas I couldn't sail. One-thousand years plus and I knew the world better than anyone, I was sure of it. There was not an inch I had not touched in my travels.

I tensed, feeling my senses shift to accommodate the change; alarm coursing through me as I carefully located every vampire in a hundred mile radius. Seven, there were seven vampires following us now.

Demetri.

This wasn't good.

It was in that moment that it became less about returning the girl to Carlisle, than about getting the bloody hell away from Demetri. I should have left her, there in that car, sleeping quietly on the docks. I should have left her and been done with it.

I dumped the man and our few bags starboard, and made my way back to the car in a blur. The girl, the blasted girl, was still blessedly asleep, even as I collected her into my arms. To my disgust she curled around me, her mouth pressed against my neck, hot puffs of breath searing my skin. The girl grumbled sleepily as my cold palms cupped both her slight thighs in one hand as we sprang from the docks to the ship.

She stirred in my arms, jostled by the impact, as I made my way across the deck. The hatch to the cabins below was closed and ominous, and I was at a loss as to what I should do with her. No amount of pity for the creature in my arms would have me pushing open the door to the high-class brig she'd be staying in.

"Girl," I growled, shaking her slightly. She mumbled incoherently, non-sensible words pressed against my neck. "Wake up!"

Much to my chagrin, she did not, remaining asleep instead. I felt a fool, standing there, girl in my arms, as the ship bobbed in the waters. Her fingers curled into the front of my jacket, white knuckled fists balling the fabric fiercely, clinging to me like a limpet. "We've arrived," I said, jostling her a bit. "Girl!"

"Mmph," she groaned, burying her face into my hair. The moment she stiffened against me, I knew she had reached a level of lucidity suitable to stand on her own two feet. "Uh..."

I set her to her feet, gruffly allowing her to steady herself on my arm as her body grew accustomed to the rocking of the waves. "Your quarters are through there," I said, gesturing to the door. "Take your suitcase; I won't be bringing it for you."

"You know," she began, nodding and pushing the mess of hair from her face, stumbling across the deck. "This is a yacht. A _little_ yacht," she mumbled. "Not a ship. Ships have sails and stuff."

I glowered, sticking my foot out to trip her in spite. She stumbled, catching herself against the rail. "I am a Captain, and it is a ship. Get some rest; I liked you better when you were sleeping."

As I watched her make her way into the ship's underbelly, I prayed to Calypso herself that out-of-sight really was out-of-mind.

A/N So, super short chapter, but hey, I'm back in the game so to speak.


	15. Chapter 15

**Hit and Run **Chapter 15

**Author** : lifelesslyndsey

**Summary** : After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life.

**Pairing**: Bella and Alistair

**Warning**: M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know.

**Word Count:** 2.2k

**Beta: ****VampishVixen **is now unfortunatly out of the game, but I was lucky enough to get **leckadams **to do the dirty job for her. :)

**Disclaimer: **I own nearly nothing; not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!

**A/N** I think I've finally gotten over this writers block! Finally, the story is moving along! Things are happening! They are on a boat! They are on the move! What in the world can happen next!

_**Previously on Hit and Run**_

_"You know," she began, nodding and pushing the mess of hair from her face, stumbling across the deck. "This is a yacht. A little yacht," she mumbled. "Not a ship. Ships have sails and stuff."_

_I glowered, sticking my foot out to trip her in spite. She stumbled, catching herself against the rail. "I am a Captain, and it is a ship. Get some rest; I liked you better when you were sleeping."_

_As I watched her make her way into the ship's underbelly, I prayed to Calypso herself that out-of-sight really was _

**Bella  
!#$%^**

I stretched and groaned, rolling over in the narrow bed set into the wall. But a bed was a bed, and it was fucking bliss after curling up on car-seats. The cabin was small, the _yacht_ was small, but well-appointed with all the fixings' a man at sea would need. Not a vampire exactly, but a man. Tugging the blanket down over my face, I pushed back the strange sensation of inertia. The boat rocked, I with it, and the combining effects made my stomach roll. Hauling myself up off the blessed mattress, I made my way along the narrow hallway.

There was, much to my utter fucking delight, a bathroom on this thing. With a fully functioning narrow-as-fuck shower-slash-bath combo, complete with tiny bottles of c-grade shampoo and conditioner and a bar of soap that would certainly wash the top layer of my skin off, but I didn't care. It was _soap_. I could finally wash the lingering pee-scent off my legs, the blood from my hair, and the sweat from _that_ _man_ from my skin.

I eyed the shower with visions of soaking into a lye-soap scented bath in the near future, but passed it by for something far more important than even personal hygiene.

The underbelly of the ship was decked out in reds-and-blacks and looked very much like a floating version of a bachelor pad. Every inch of space had been maximized on. There was a tiny sitting-room area. A large, manly, over-compensating plasma T.V. was bolted to the wall, below it a DVD player and what promised to be a modest by suitable sound system. There was a black leather couch, slick and untouched. There was a narrow coffee table bolted to the floor.

Adjacent to the living-room area, was the kitchen-slash-dining room. A shining wooden table folded up into the wall, with two small bench-seats that looked like they might serve as a second fold-out bed. In the kitchen was a tiny two burner electric stove and oven wedged against one wall, beside it a tiny one-basin tub. Above the stove was a small microwave, shiny and unused. A small cupboard held simple food-stuffs; ramen, ravioli, tuna-fish, crackers, and the like. Simple, easy man-food that required nothing more difficult then boiling water or pushing buttons. A tiny fridge held little more than beverages; water, coke (Portuguese coke), tiny bottles of orange juice, and six tiny plastic bottles of Jack Daniels. Fabulous.

But I did not eye the stove, and I did not eye the microwave. Or the Jack and coke. Oh no, for they could not hold a candle to the tiny deity sitting upon the counter, illuminated by imaginary rays of twinkling sunshine and an orchestra of trumpets and harps.

There was a mother fucking coffee pot on this mother fucking boat. Yacht. Ship. Whatever.

Coffee.

It's never been said I had my priorities straight.

And it wasn't just any coffee pot. It wasn't one of those cheap white plastic pieces of shit you buy at Wal-mart for $12.99. It was beyond even the neon pink contraption I bought at Target for 29.99 back when I had a house to call a home and my coffee wasn't served through a window by a painfully cheerful seventeen year old blonde with a lip ring and a name-tag that screamed _Emily_ or _Taylor_. It was a work of freaking art, all round curves and shiny buttons. I stared at it in awe and confusion, for as pretty as it was, it lacked an actual pot, and the water-dispenser thing was in the back and not the top. This delicious piece of equipment was beyond even my usual level of coffee-comfort, and I took a moment to mourn the fact that it was wasted on the stiff up stairs. Such is the life for us mere mortals. Woe, woe, woe is me.

After a bare-minimum of blue-streak swearing required for the usage of all new appliances, I figured the fucker out. Coffee _pods. _Indi-fucking-vidual servings of coffee grounds all packaged away in neat little cups that you just drop into the coffee-ground thing; no scooping, no measuring, no mess. It would never cease to amaze me the things high-class people did to keep from exerting any more than the very least amount of energy required for anything.

Sweet, delicious liquid _soul_ poured down into the plain, white, ceramic cup and I watched, feeling the first sense of ease wash over me. Creature comforts; a warm bath and a hot cup of coffee. I didn't ask for much.

With my hands wrapped around the warm ceramic mug, I made my way carefully back up the narrow stairs to the deck. I was still dressed in my bedraggled dress and filthy socks, but I couldn't care less. I had coffee. _Coffee_.

It was enough to make me want to be pleasant to the bastard. I decided to put that notion to the test and venture upward if only to see what time it was, where we were going, what we were doing, etcetera. Basically, my general arsenal of bland questions that served little more then to annoy my captor. Entertainment was sparse. I took what I could get.

So, it was with coffee in hand, and a small hesitant smile on my face that I tripped over a dead guy.

And spilled my coffee.

My _coffee_.

**Alistair**

**!#$%&**

I'd heard her quiet stirring over the sound of the waves, grumbles and groans and the sound of fabric rustling. Not to mention an extensive bout of impressive swearing that belonged nowhere but a pirate's ship; the mouth on the girl astounded me. The thick scent of coffee, not wholly unpleasant, but earthy and dark, seeped up through the vents, lost to the wind as we made our way across the ocean. She was quiet, and I was thankful, for the evening without her random harping had done my nerves good.

It is a wonder I have survived as long as I had for I knew better then to count my chickens before they hatched. As soon as the thought permeated my mind, she was screaming, again. As always. I had half a notion to ignore her impressive imitation of a shrieking harpy altogether, until I realized I had yet to discard of my evening meal.

Without surprise, I found her, sprawled out across his cold-body, scrambling to right herself. Her bruised palms slipped in the spilled coffee, and she slammed back down upon his corpse.

I could smell the tears on her face, even if it was hidden behind a curtain of her tangled, filthy hair. With a tired sigh, I scooped her up off the body, catching her as she lost her footing on the wet deck. No shoes, I thought, what a death trap on a ship's deck. But she had no shoes, hadn't for some time, and I could see the flecks of rusty brown blood on her feet where rocks had torn her through her socks, biting into the soft flesh of her soles. She hadn't complained, not a once, that her feet hurt, and I could help but feel a _nigling_ of something flair inside me for her endurance.

She would have made an excellent pirate.

Her body went limp in my arms, head lolling back to expose the long, pale column of her throat. The ceramic cup she had still held in her hand, crashed to the floor, splitting into two. I held her awkwardly, my arms hooked beneath hers, forcing her to arch lifelessly against me. The dress had caught at the waist of my jeans, staying in place when her body did not. It was hiked up to her breasts, half caught beneath my palms, and my fingers dug into the cotton-fabric as I held her, my own body frozen in place by shock. Her head fell to the side, pillowed on her shoulder, warm cheek pressed against my stomach and I very nearly dropped her.

I was _hard, _and terribly so.

Her body, soft and bruised like a fallen apple, was pressed against mine; pressed against me. My terribly inappropriate erection was caught between her nearly none existent breasts, a steady thumping of her heart beating beneath it.

I was hard.

Because of her.

The thought very nearly struck me dumb, at which point I _did_ drop her.

Her soft body hit with a dull thud, sprawling her out beside the dead dock-hand. She looked dead, and I blinked, inexplicably uncomfortable with the notion that she could be anything but alive and breathing, beating heart thumping to a rhythm that was, apparently, driving me senseless. For what other reason could be the cause to my apparent madness.

I was not suited to play among the living.

In a moment of _senseless_ panic, I scooped her up from the deck and carried her to the railing. All my recently accumulated problems could be solved so simply. All I needs must do was drop her, let the waves carry her where they will. She would survive; we were not too far from coast. And what was a spot of water in comparison to all that she'd endured? A very cold bath, by and by, really.

I held her over the rail, her head lolling over my arm, hair catching the wind. I could see the blood rush through the veins in her throat, soft and blue beneath her moon-white skin. The bruises were still ripe and tender, a whirl of greens and navy-blues mapping out her flesh. There was blood on her neck; the first wounds, the ones from the accident must have split open, spilling all that precious liquid across her skin.

I could drop her, and be done with it. Surely the Seer would see it. They'd been following us for some time now, the Seer and the Mind Reader. Longer then Demetri, and nearly as long as the other lowly minions of Aro's guard that had been tailing us.

I hadn't told her, and why was that?

Why was it that I was protecting her? Hadn't it been my wish to hand her over to the Cullens and wash my hands of her scent...stink? Was that not the origin of this dastardly mission? When had it become about her and not I? When had I forgotten that _I_ was the most important to myself? I did not like this new sensation; a painful clenching in my useless stomach.

She meant so little to me, and yet I did not care to see her dead. I couldn't claim to care much for her life, but her death held some sort of vice on me. She could die, of surety, she could, but it would not be under my watch.

I was better than that.

And perhaps that was what it was, my vendetta against the Volturi, for I was hardly tawdry enough to believe myself in love with the girl. I had long since forgotten what love was meant to be, and too she was my food source. I did not feel capable of caring for her beyond that. I did not want to see her dead. A small part of me whispered that if she were a vampire it might not be so, but I smashed it down with years of practice with suppressing untoward thoughts.

The Volturi though, I knew. And I was loathing to give them anything, even the girl. I was better than that, better than them, and if they believed I couldn't keep her alive they would be sorely mistaken. They could not have the girl.

"Ow, bastard!" The girl hissed, and I realized I was squeezing in all my righteous fury. "What are you doing?"

I stared down over her tiny body at the waves rolling beside the ship. I had her body against mine, cradled like an infant, hovering over the rails edge. "You fainted."

"Yeah," she said slowly, looking up at me from the crook of my arm, her expression bewildered. "What are you doing?"

"I..." I paused, a break in my voice so uncharacteristic that her bewildered expression only seemed to deepen. "Fresh air. I thought it might do you good to breath the air from the waves," I said calmly, lying through my deadly teeth.

"Oh, well. Thank you, then," she said softly, nudging herself away from me. I realized I was still holding her and very nearly dropped her again. "Um."

"Yes, of course," I said at once, setting her to her feet. "I apologize for surprising you with yet another remnant from my dinner."

She sighed, smoothing out her filthy dress and casting a glance at the dead dock hand. "I'm more upset about my coffee, really."

**A/N I'm already working on the next chapter so I should have it out fairly soon. Sorry for the delay, but the story is actually staring to pick up!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hit and Run Chapter 15 **

**Author** : lifelesslyndsey

**Summary** : After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life.

**Pairing**: Bella and Alistair

**Warning**: M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know. Minor alcohol/medication use.

**Word** Count: 4.6 k - Longer then my last couple!

**Beta**: LadyVivianeNigh generously took this chapter and cleaned it of it's literary filthy.

**Disclaimer**: I own nearly nothing; not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!

**A/N** Okay so this chapter is twice as long as I've been rocking, and has lots of goodies in it. Minor alcohol/drug use. The drugs are actually medication that is not prescribed to the user, blah blah blah.

**A/N** Oh! Before I forget, did you guys know I have a colab account on ffnet with my home girl lacym3? We do. It's **bloodstainedbombshells**. We're on Twi-Write as well, and we just entered a insanely gory Jasper/Bella fic into the Nightmare Before Christmas contest. So, head over there and give it a read (and vote for it if you like it!)

Stupid ffnet won't let me post a link here, so check it out on the top of my profile!

Previously on Hit and Run

_**Now...**_

_"Oh, well. Thank you, then," she said softly, nudging herself away from me. I realized I was still holding her and very nearly dropped her again. "Um." _

_"Yes, of course," I said at once, setting her to her feet. "I apologize for surprising you with yet another remnant from my dinner." _

_She sighed, smoothing out her filthy dress and casting a glance at the dead dock hand. "I'm more upset about my coffee, really. _

**Bella**

**!#$% **

My heart was palpitating, my palms sweat, as I tried desperately to look anywhere but the body, (yet another in a long line of bodies) before me. God, god, it was getting ridiculous. His blood clung to me, sticking into the neatly woven threads of my dirty dress. Coffee and blood, I was covered in it. My dress was a goddamn continental breakfast buffet for all parties currently standing upon the ship deck.

Not that I wanted him to eat off me or anything. That'd be weird.

His hand was still curled around my elbow when I stumbled, and he caught me, _again_. "I've a feeling you'll be over the rail at least once by the end of this trip," he growled, but there was no bite to it. "Perhaps you would be better suited below decks?"

"I think I'm okay now," I mumbled, strangely embarrassed to be clinging to him. "I...yeah. The dead guy caught me off guard. You should work on that, I don't leave sandwiches just laying all over."

"I've already apologized," he rumbled, steering me away from the coffee-and-blood puddle. My hands were sticky, and I wiped them down his shirt in petty vengeance.

To many hours trapped in the tiny confines of various cars seemed to melt away at the invisible barrier of space between us. His hands didn't seem so cold no, wrapped around my arm, and he smelled so good, like something spicy and smokey and...

My eye snapped open, and I felt inexplicably angry. Damn vampires. Proximity was a problem when it came to the un-dead. You get to close and all the dangers melt away. From ten feet they're beautiful and un-welcoming.

From a foot away, they're breathtaking and enchanting. _Dazzling_. Bastards. I couldn't help but draw a breath, to breath in that strange dark scent. My hand was splayed out across his firm stomach, where it had landed when I stumbled, and I didn't want to feel that; all those hard muscles, twitching beneath my finger tips. From here, he seemed human, he seemed _male_. I looked up through my lashes to see his stubble-covered jaw, and his hard mouth, teeth grinding.

I was, of course, annoying him. Of course.

Swooning like a fucking girl, I should have been ashamed of myself. I knew better. I knew what they were and what they could do, but it had been a long time since I let myself get lost to the magic of it. I was on a goddamn boat with a goddamn pirate with a British accent.

Fuck my life, okay?

Don't judge me, vampires were, by nature, attractive.

Mister-Old-As-Fuck was no different, except that he was _more_ so. God, he was right when he said the older the vampire the stronger. Everything felt stronger. The urge to run, the urge to embarrass myself, the urge to swoon like a fucking girl. I wanted to breath him in, eat him up, and run screaming for the hills all at once.

Stupid. _Fucking_. Vampires.

I didn't feel so good.

**Alistair**

**!#$%^& **

I kept a hold of her elbow as she trembled where she stood. "You're looking rather flush, are you well?"

"I'm fine," she snapped, tugging her elbow from my grip. "I just have...a headache is all. I'm probably still tired."

Ignoring her vitiated protests, I forcibly maneuvered her around the cabin of the ship, pushing her gently into one of the built in padded seats. "There's a buckle, you will use it," I instructed, tugging off my questionably clean jacket. "Wear this."

"Aye-aye, Captain," she snorted, wriggling into the jacket. She leaned back against the cabin and closed her eyes, and I forced back my irritated growl.

"I said use the buckle," I growled, extracting both ends from beneath the orange, vinyl cushion and looping them around her waist. I snapped them shut with a click, wrenching the strap tight.

''Hey!" She snapped, grabbing my wrist, and I stilled. Her palms were clammy, cold with sweat as she pushed my hand away. "Jesus! The last thing I need is internal bleeding, thank you."

I blinked, snapping myself upright. "You will do as I say on this ship or you will regret it, do you understand?" I growled, more angry then the situation deserved. I felt unnerved, and I did not care for it.

She shot me a withering glare and huffed, dislodging a greasy curl from where it lay across her face. "Or what, you'll lock me in the brig?"

The comment was enough to cure me of any of my perturbing thoughts, and I winced, much to my chagrin. I could not wait to be rid of her and re-embrace my welcoming solitude. I was growing lax in her company.

Her glare softened instantaneously, and she bit her chapped, bottom lip. "I'm sorry, that was really insensitive of me," she said _sotto voce_, as if I were an animal to be tamed. "It's probably like, the worse case of Stockholm's ever, but I know that this isn't easy for you, and I appreciate you trying with me."

"We do what we must," I replied quietly. "The fresh air should do you good; will cure what ails you, and a bit of what doesn't, so they say. If you've a need for anything, do call."

"Thank you," she murmured, tugging the dirty collar of my coat. "For this."

**xXxXxXx **

I found the girl asleep, exactly where I had left her an hour past. She was curled into my woolen pea-coat, head resting against the crook of her arm in the bench-nook. Her skin was still flushed, sweat dampening her clammy skin and I felt my self strangely concerned. I pressed the back of my hand to her for head and growled. She was fevered, burning up against my hand.

"Girl," I said, nudging her shoulder with a fingertip. "Girl. Wake up."

"Mmm," she hummed, burying her head into her arm. "G'way."

"Wake up," I snapped, and she bolted upright, blinking her cinnamon colored eyes rapidly. She pushed the mess of her hair from her face with the palm of her hand, scratching at her scalp sleepily as she did so.

"M'up! Wha-" she paused, clearing her throat. "What do you want?"

"You're burning up," I replied, reaching down to unbuckle the belt at her waist. She let loose an undignified squeak and smacked my hand, hard enough to hurt herself.

"Dude!" She exclaimed, pushing me away. "Two words. Personal. Space. It's an easy concept. I cannot think straight with you all up in my face. I get all...frazzled. I don't know whether I want to cry or kiss you. It fucks my shit up okay? So give a girl some space."

Her flippant comment caught me off guard, a difficult feat in it's own right, and I found myself staring at her as she clicked open the belt, pushing her dress back down to her knees. "You're sick," I said, tonelessly. "You didn't say you were sick."

She sighed, slow and steady, rubbing gently at the tender bruise on her cheekbone. "I feel like shit," she said at last. "Jesus Christ, I feel like I've been hit by a fucking bus. Mother fucking fuck, ow. Everything fucking hurts. My head hurts, my throat hurts, my fucking brain hurts." She blinked again, her eyes glossy with intimidating tears.

"I suspect you have whiplash," I said slowly, carefully inspecting her various bruises. "And a fever. It's been far to wet a season to be without shoes or a proper jacket. If you were cold, you should have said something."

"I didn't read that paragraph in the kidnaper-kidnapee interaction in the pamphlet, alright! In case you haven't fucking noticed, I'm in no goddamn position to make fucking demands!" She threw up her hands and winced. "Fuck, ow."

I growled, wrapping my hand around her wrist and tugging her up. "Have I done anything to harm you...intentionally? Have I starved you? Beat you? Have I been unduly cruel?"

"No, but-"

"You are not my prisoner!" I snapped, but the words tasted of ash on my tongue. She _was_, no matter how I told myself she wasn't. I had taken her against her will. As a human, she was beneath me, but I'd been human once. And I'd been treated as she; as nothing. I could only strive to be better, to not play the villain to her victim. God, and she was a victim! A captured hare to us, the ravenous bloodhounds.

"You are...you are my..._charge_. I distinctly remember requesting that you inform me of your needs! How can you expect me to know? I'm responsible for you, and as such, it is my duty to see you well. Carlisle would be remiss if I returned you in less then perfect condition."

"It's a bit fucking late for that." The words were mumbled around a jaw-cracking yawn. She shifted her feet, leaning her slight form against me as I lead her to the cabin door. It was a testament to her enervated condition that she allowed the support. "I'm a hot fucking mess."

"You are burning up," I agreed, confused by the phrasing. "Perhaps it would be ideal for you to rest. If I am to incur the irritatingly calm and docile wrath of it will be for as very little as possible, I should think."

"I want a bath," she argued. "And food, maybe."

"You shouldn't linger in warm waters when you're already fevered," I replied evenly. "A shower would be better. And perhaps some soup, if they have it? Tis' a remedy thats been around perhaps as long as I. Is there adequate facilities down there?"

"Oh yeah. I snooped around a little when I woke up. This boats tricked the fuck out."

"Tricked?" I asked. Surely it wasn't booby-trapped? I hadn't made such a request, though the idea had merit.

"No, tricked. Like...it's got every thing. The full-monty; bathroom, kitchen, living room. There is a flat screen T.V. down there bigger then a refrigerator, and a pretty neat stereo system."

"I wouldn't know," I replied, pushing open the door to the cabin. "Rest. I'll wake you in a few hours, yes? I'll knock."

"If you want," she said, turning her head into my chest. Her clammy cheek nuzzled against the soft, thread-bare fabric of my thin under-shirt, and I froze. Her subsequent gasp was hot against my collar bone as she yanked herself back. "Mother _fuck_. If I wasn't already fucking feeling you up, I might admit that's some good shit, but I don't feel like stroking your ego. S'like drugs. I feel mind-fucked. _God_. Get away from me."

The parting comment should have offended me but she laughed as she said it, throwing a lip-swollen smile over her shoulder as she disappeared down the stairs. I turned back to my post at the helm, fingers grasping the smooth steering wheel. I startled inwardly as the quiet melodic tones of Nothing Else Matters poured out of the P.A. system overhead.

Of course the girl would choose to torment me with Metallica.

_"-I seek and I find in you. Every day for us something new. Open mind for a different view and nothing else matters." _

**Bella**

**%$#! **

I submerged myself in to the clear waters of the tub, head heavy and with a belly full of warm soup. It did some little to calm my aches, but I felt better for it anyway. I had a fever of 101.7, and a throbbing fucking head ache. Everything ached, but it was hardly new; I'd never had much of a threshold for pain. I took a deep drink from my Jack-and-Coke, setting the glass back on the edge of the tub. It dulled the pain, at any rate.

Water sloshed over the edges of the tub as I hummed along with James Hatfield. _ "...forever trusting who we are. No, nothing else matters."_ The song tapered to an end, replaced by Def Leppard's Hysteria.

I wanted to punch my i-pod right out of the fucking deck for that little gem. _"...hysteria when you're near,"_ I hummed, submerging myself so low in the waters that my chin brushed the surface. "More like bat-shit crazy." Stupid Vampires with their stupid mind-fucking. God, he _had_ to smell good didn't he?

Prior to today, we'd both taken certain precautions to keep a healthy proximity from each other, unless the situation was unavoidable. But as soon as the fucker stepped within a one foot radius of me, my brain went fuzzy as fuck and there was no thinking straight. Like being underwater, complete with the feeling of impending death. With a depressing little huff, I sank further into the waters, staying beneath the surface till my lungs protested and burned. I rose, gasping sharply, cool air sharp against my slightly swollen throat. I took another drink, and let myself be numb, if only for a moment.

The water stained a swirling shade of pink, as blood was eased from my hair and skin. I grabbed the harsh bar of soap and scrubbed it across my skin; arms, neck, chest, stomach, legs. Every inch of me was washed, soaping away three days worth of death and terror.

My scalp stung as I worked in the shampoo-conditioner combo into my hair, pink foamy bubbles dropping into the water as I scrubbed away the filth. I was pretty sure this blood was mine, but I really couldn't be sure. The last body, whoever he was, had scared the shit out of me, but I wasn't going to admit that to _him_. There was just no way to grow accustom to seeing cold, bloodied corpses laying about. I wondered if it was how a cow felt as they watched their brothers being lead to the slaughter. Three days with the dead bastard, and I wasn't sure I could look at a human and not think of them as 'vampire-food'. It was depressing.

I eased my way back down beneath the waters surface, sluicing away the shampoo from my hair. I hauled myself up from the filthy waters, perching my ass on the tubs edge. I felt better for it, cleaner then I had in days, as I carefully ran a cheap plastic comb through my tangled mess.

Dropping the comb in the sink, I rummaged through the medicine cabinet. Aspirin. Advil. Benadryl. Tylenol. Unopened boxes of over-the-counter pain medications lined the clear glass shelves, and I pushed them aside when orange caught my eye. I plucked a the plastic, orange prescription bottle, and held it up into the light. _Hydrocodone_ - _500_ mg, it read, and nothing else; not a name or a prescribing doctor. Only the rich, I thought, popping the white cap off with a shrug. Knocking two pills back into my mouth, I swallowed them down with another mouthful of Jack, wincing as they scraped down my raw throat.

Returning the bottle to shelf, I continued my hunt. A small black, leather case was tucked in a drawer beneath the sink. Toiletries, I thought, un-zipping the case. I tore open a black, plastic razor from it's crinkly package and popped the cap of a small size of funky-smelling shaving foam. It wasn't exactly a trip to the spa, but all things considered, I could've done with some pampering. I was on a baby-yacht, in the middle of the North Atlantic, fresh out of the bath with a good buzz going and plenty of liquor left.

And nothing else to do with my time.

Parking my ass on the toilet seat, I propped my foot on the sink and set to work. The shaving cream tingled against my freshly washed legs as I smoothed it over my skin, singing out loud to Dosed by Red Hot Chilli Peppers.

_"I got dosed by you, and closer to you then most and what am I supposed to do?" _

The razor slid through the white cream with ease and I took another drink as the song poured out of the speakers, taunting me subconsciously.

_"Way upon the mountain where she died, all I ever wanted was your life..." _

And that had been the case hasn't it, not so many years ago? I'd wanted to be that girl that died, and have that life, I thought, as rinsed the razor. Maybe music was a bad idea. Maybe liquor was a bad idea. I slid the razor across my skin, leaving a stripe of smooth pale skin. The song faded away and flooded me with another, and I took another drink from my rapidly emptying glass.

Piano music filled the momentary silence, intermittence between songs, and I sighed. I was to damn drunk to listen to Lennon.

_"Imagine there's no heaven, it's easy if you try..." _

I grabbed my glass in one hand, and continued to shave with the other. The room lurched and I let it, hauling up my other leg onto the sink. The cream made a mess as I slathered it across my skin, dropping to the floor with wet _plops_.

I was a little drunk, to be honest.

"Stupid Vampire," I murmured, shaving an un-even path up my inner thigh. I flicked the razor errantly, splattering shaving cream across the mirror. "Stupid boat. Fucking _hell_!" The boat lurched again, and I wobbled on my narrow perch, falling ass over elbow back into my murky waters. The razor scrapped across my skin, tearing a thick strip of flesh from the soft inside of my knee as I splashed into the water, my head thunking the back side of the tubs edge. Both legs were splayed up in the air and over the tubs edge, blood oozing to the surface of my flesh in quick spurts and pouring down the white porcelain of the bath.

I grasped at the tubs edge, but my hands were wet, slipping on the glossy surface, and there was just no fucking purchased. So instead, I sloshed in the water and I laughed like only the drunk did when Bad Moon Rising burst through the speakers as .

_"I see a bad moon rising, I see trouble on the way. I see earthquakes and lightening, I see bad times today..." _

The razor had been flung when I had fallen, floating now in the rolling waters, but I had managed to keep a firm hold on my precious glass. I raised it to my lips, straining my neck to keep my mouth from brushing the waters, only to find the fucking thing empty.

So...I threw it.

_"...hope you got your things together. Hope you are quite prepared to die..." _

**Alistair**

**!#$%& **

The ship, she bobbed along the waters as we narrow current in the ocean. I kept my feet steady as we pushed along the torrent of tossing waves, switching over to auto-pilot when Creedence Clearwater Revival bellowed from the speakers overhead. Auto-steering was, perhaps, the most ingenious invention of the twenty-first century.

My knock was hallow on the door, and quiet against the echoing music. "Girl," I called, rapping my knuckles more firmly against the door. No sound, save for her music came forth, and I pushed open the door, nostrils flaring as the scent of blood burst across my face.

"Girl!" I called out, hesitating at the steps. "Are you alright? Girl!"

No reply was forthcoming, and the music played on, an answer to nothing. The smell of blood was heavy in the steamy air that poured from the cabin door. Panic, strange and sticky, bubbled up within me, squeezing at my middle. "Girl," I tried again, leaning forward, my traitorous right foot already pressing down on the second step. "...Girl?"

The narrow stair case was oppressive and shadowed, and I itched to turn back and lock the door behind me. There were demons below, ones I had no desire to be dealt with, but the scent of blood only seemed to hang heavier with every passing second and I began to worry.

She could have fallen during the turbulence, or fainted, perhaps hit her head.

She could have taken her life out of my hands into her own; I would not spite her suicide.

Every step I descended beat against me like a heart. My feet were lead-heavy, filled with

dread and past-terror. The flimsy wooden stair rail splintered beneath my white-knuckle grip as I made my way into my own personal hell, one foot after another.

I could hear the splash of bath water in the rear of the cabin, and suppressed my innate irritation that she hadn't listened to my instructions. What if she'd fallen in the bath? What if she had hit her head, fainted and drowned?

Something smashed, glass I thought, against the floor, and I was forced into action, rushing through the cramped cabin towards the bathroom. Light like rainbows glimmered of the thousands of tiny curved glass shards littering the the white tiles of the tiny bathroom floor. I was momentarily stunned by the brilliance of her red, red blood dripping in broken lines down the white of the tub.

Her pale legs were thrown over the tubs edge, spread and splayed comically askew. One hand rested against the porcelain, fingers curled limply over the rim. I couldn't see her face behind a curtain of damp curls, and couldn't see if her chest rose and fell. Oh god, I thought, as the music tapered to another end. She's dead.

Neither vampires nor werewolves could kill the girl, nor car crashes and whatever else she'd gotten up to in her life. She'd lived thus far to be taken out by a bloody bathtub. I'd let her die abroad my own ship. She'd died while in my care, and I hadn't even been the cause. I stepped hesitantly into the bathroom, just enough that the tips of my toes touched the tile. I wasn't prepared for the strange squeezing sensation in my stomach, or ache I could not place. I had no wish to kill her, not for a days passed anyway. Three days in my company, and she expired non the less. Had I at least taken herself out, her body would not have gone wasted. And what would I say, should they come for me? And they would, the Seer, and the Reader. I'd killed their girl.

But she wasn't their girl.

For I had taken her, plucked her from the road side, and kept her to myself. I had run from them, when I new it was at their side she belonged. Where I had intended to deposit her from the moment Carlisle's name fell from her lips like a curse or benediction. I had meant to give her back, for I had no reason to keep her. She was theirs, marked thusly so, and I had known that, hadn't I? Why had I kept her, why had I kept running; who was I keeping her from? The Volturi or the Cullens?

Oh dear God. I'd stollen the girl.

"Bella..."

Her body jerked in the tub, splashing water over the edge. The tiny glass shards floated about as the water sloshed across the floor, seeping out into a reaching puddle. It touched the boots of my toes before I could gather myself from the shock of her being quite well and alive.

"Jesus Christ!" She gasped, head snapping up. "Make some fucking noise! You scared the shit outta' me!"

I stared. Stared at her till every freckle on her pale, bruised face stood out like a star in the clear night sky. I stared at her till I could see the spittle on her lips from where she'd licked them. I stared at her till I could have counted each visible strand of hair on her unbelievably stupid, _stupid_ head.

"Are you drunk?"

She blinked, owl-like and blank. "A little. Mostly though, I'm stuck."

Indeed she was, ass-backwards in her own filthy bath water. I could see where she had grappled for purchase at the tubs-edge, smearing her fingers through the copious amounts of blood. A small, appalling plastic shaving instrument floated in her cooling waters, bumping into her thigh as the gentle waves settled.

She was shaving...while drunk...

She was drunk...while sick...

"You're a right bloody idiot, you are," I felt the anger bubble up inside me, mostly at myself for being so terribly confused by her death. Why had I cared so?

"Uh maybe," she agreed, peering up at me with half-lidded eyes. "But mostly, I'm stuck. Oh...hey, wait, I think I got it..." She hooked a toe against the toilet, and I watched, slightly awed, as she curled herself up slightly with just that tiny spot of leverage. Her fingers slid over the tubs edge, curling around the lip as she pulled, and I realized nearly belatedly that this was very, very stupid.

"Stop it, you fucking idiot girl!" I snapped, ghosting across the tiny room, glass crunching beneath my feet. I shoved her back against the tub, pressing my palm against her collar bone. The waters sloshed, drenching my pant legs where I'd leaned over the bath, pinning her down. "Are you not aware that you've shattered glass across the floor? Have you not bleed enough?"

She snorted, smiling sloppily. "Nicked myself shaving, a bit. S'nothing. Flesh wound." Her head fell to the side, mouth pressing against my forearm, and I felt myself shiver from the tangy heat of her breath against my skin.

"You should not be drinking!" I snapped. "You're ill, and recovering from various injuries. Alcohol will do you no good."

She pressed her mouth firmly against my arm, but it could not have been a kiss for such a thought was bloody fucking ridiculous. "S'alright. I found some pills in the medicine cabinet."

Oh bloody fucking Circes left tit.

"Could you not have perhaps stuck with one or the other, or maybe as I suggested, _neither_! You need rest!"

"You can take me to bed."

"You're drunk," I said slowly. "And an idiot. And quite frankly, I'm tempted to drop you overboard, and leave you for the sharks. I cannot fathom how you've manage to live twenty-something years as you have, you reckless, stupid child! Bloody fucking human, do you have no sense? Shaving, while intoxicated? While you are running at an internal tempreture of nearly one-hundred and two degrees. I feel as if I should point out for your stupid American skull that I do, indeed mean fahrenheit. I find you passed out in a bathtub full of bloody damned water, and what am I to think? I cannot fathom what I was possibly thinking. Food. You are _food_, you are as dumb as to be expected of _food_-"

She laughed, a breathy, drunken noise, and turned her head towards my arm, licking a line up my wrist.

"_I_ might be food," she slurred. "But you taste pretty good yourself."

I yanked my wrist back post-haste, but her fingers were already curling into my shirt, and tugging me forward. "What are you doing? Girl! Stop this...stop it, at once. Isabella!. You're sick. Rest, rest is what you need. Neither liquor nor pills will cure what ails you." "

"Oh, Alistair," she sang my name, shaking her had back and forth. "Alistair, Alistair, _Alistair_. _You're_ what fucking ails me." She looked up at me through wet lashes, a smirk curling the corners of her mouth. "Kiss it better?"She slurred.

There was no reason why I went with it, why I let her pull me forward, but I did, and for that I realize that what happened next was entirely my fault.

**A/N .EVER.** Also, don't forget to check out my profile for the link to twiwrite where you can read my new story Christmas thing, collabed with Lacym3!


	17. Chapter 17

**Hit and Run Chapter 17**

**Author** : lifelesslyndsey

**Summary** : After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life.

**Pairing**: Bella and Alistair

**Warning**: M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know. Minor alcohol/medication use. LEMONS IN THIS CHAPTER.

**Word Count:** 2 kish. Kinda tiny.

**Beta**: Lacym3 did this dirty deed.

**Disclaimer**: I own nearly nothing; not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!

**A/N** This chapter is pretty short, only like, 2k. But, I think, given it's content, you won't mind.

**A/N** Oh! Before I forget, did you guys know I have a colab account on ffnet with my home girl lacym3? We do. It's BloodSoakedBombShells. We're on Twi-Write as well, and we just entered a insanely gory Jasper/Bella fic into the Nightmare Before Christmas contest. So, head over there and give it a read (and vote for it if you like it!)

**Previously**:

_"Oh, Alistair," she sang my name, shaking her had back and forth. "Alistair, Alistair, Alistair. You're what fucking ails me." She looked up at me through wet lashes, a smirk curling the corners of her mouth. "Kiss it better?"She slurred._

_There was no reason why I went with it, why I let her pull me forward, but I did, and for that I realize that what happened next was entirely my fault._

**Now**:

**Alistair**

**!#$%^**

Liquor still clung to her lips, and then mine when she boldly licked them, nothing but a swipe of her tongue across my mouth. I answered back with my own lick, pushing back the urge to sink my teeth into her fat bottom lip. The first brush of her tongue against mine tasted like alcohol; burning and sweet. My knees hit the tub, and I caught myself on the wall before thrusting forth my own tongue between her lips with a growl.

As I suspected that she would, upon the first taste of the remnant venom on my tongue, she melted against me, her body falling limp in my arms. It wasn't enough to harm her, but certainly enough to cause a spectacular sensory overload.

Her mouth opened like the gates of hell, admitting me into it's warmth. She tasted of blood here, if only a little, and she was delicious, as I has suspected her to be. I breathed into her mouth, half expecting steam from the contradictory sensations of heat and cold.

She moaned.

Ye Gods, what had I started?

Her fingers were loose in my shirt, the hot palm of her hand sliding up to cup my neck, tugging me forward. Bent prone over the tub, I was forced to pull back, our foreheads pressed together. I blinked.

Ah yes, she was very much naked.

The dirty, chilled waters did nothing more than blur the lines of her body beneath her navel. Tendrils of hair coiled and clung to her skin, sticking to the flat of her breast like that might in a mermaid's tale. Her nipples were hard, painted of the same pale rose-color as her lips. She was seven different kinds of imperfection, yes, but she was so very clearly _offering_.

By my very nature, such offerings did not come often.

Her mouth caught mine again, just a kitten lick at the corner, and I growled, hooking an arm around her neck. My other hand slid beneath her legs, and I could feel the fresh wound there, warm and wet, pushing weak, warm spurts of pulsing blood against my wrist. I pulled her up from the waters and she slid down into my arms, leaving a trail of crimson painted down my inner forearm, pretty and tempting.

She wound her hands around my neck, digging her fingers hard enough into the nape of my neck that I could feel it. Her fingers curled into my hair, urging my head back, and I went with it, for reasons unbeknownst to me.

She licked me again, a thin line with the tip of her tongue, up my neck, and behind my ear, and I _growled_. Glass crunched my feet as I left the the claustrophobic bathroom, escaping out into the den. Where was the bloody bedroom on this boat?

Impatience, as it often does, marred my objective, and I dropped her drunken arse on the the small bit of counter space available. Her head knocked against the dark-wood cupboards, but she braced herself, naked thighs wrapping around my hips.

She was drunk, and ill, and also terribly off limits. One does not have relations with ones food. Could this be the vampire equivalent of bestiality? I couldn't be sure, but I'd never had the urge to plunder any of my victims. An inconvenient time to have a moral dilemma, I thought, as her clumsy fingers fumbled at my belt buckle. Could I take advantage of her inebriated state? She was in my care, after all, and as such I should have been taking measure to see that she was well and cared for.

Though...I _had_ instructed her to come to me with _all_ her needs.

Fuck it, I thought.

I was pirate.

I'd done far worse.

"Can we hurry this up?" She breathed, pulling my belt in it's entirety from my trousers with one pull. "The food's getting cold."

It took me a moment, for truly I couldn't be asked to think with her warm palms in my pants, but I laughed when I realized she was talking about _herself_. _Food_, I thought, and she was, yes she was, and who was I to waste that kind of offering?

I smoothed my hand down the length of her thigh, catching her at the ankle and urging her leg straight. I lifted it up 'till she was nearly bent in half, and licked her from the back of her knee to her heel. Blood, near fresh and thick burned against my tongue, heavy and sweet in a way that only a woman was. My fingers floundered when I felt her warm fingers curl around my traitorous cock. Her leg fell over my shoulder, and I kept it there with one hand, the other sliding down her narrow rib cage to curl over her hip, pressing firmly against the tiny, jutting bone there.

I dropped to my knees, her thigh pressed to my cheek, and buried my face there, between her legs. I could taste her bath water, but mostly I could taste _her_. It tasted as her blood did; sweet and cloying, and just as hot and sticky on my tongue. I licked at her, _feasted upon her_, painting broad stripes up her with my tongue, 'till her juices soaked me, wet against my chin.

Her other hand tugged me at the neck, urging me forward, and I followed it's direction, our mouths finding one another once again. Her leg was pinned between us, bleeding knee pulsing against the apex of my shoulder as we licked at each others mouths. Could she taste herself on me? I wondered, and kissed her harder for it

The drunken little vixen sucked in my bottom lip, having enough thought to not bite me. I could feel her heat as I pressed closer to her, the hand that pinned her leg to me sliding down her thigh. She was wet against me, and I couldn't take a moments more wait.

"God, fuck, what are you waiting for, a written fucking invitation?" she snapped, pushing me forward with her leg. I felt the head of my cock nudge against her slick folds, and she pushed at me again, her insistent message clear.

I thrust forward, sinking into her with one painfully slow push. She was a fucking inferno, Hades personified; had I ever given it any thought, I should not have been surprised that I would find the fires of the Netherworld between the legs of a woman. She groaned, head falling back against the cupboard door again as I thrust, moving forward to kiss her sarcastic little mouth. I licked at her, sucking her tongue into my mouth and coating it with my venom 'till her body fell into a languid, moaning mess. Only then did I _fuck _into her with enough force to appease my vicious appetite and not break her bloody fucking pelvic bone in the process.

To my great surprise, her tiny compact body sustained the unexpected beating with ease, taking me in with no restraint. I hammered into her effortlessly, and she moaned for it, fingers flexing into balls where I pinned them above her head. Her body arched, breast-less chest pushing out as she turned her head, muffling her screams against my own arm. I could see where her heart beat against her chest, a beat for every thrust. As it's tempo rose, so did mine, 'till I was fucking her with near abandon. I watched each thrust as my cock was immersed, _engulfed,_ by her tight body.

Every push knocked her head against the cupboard, and it was all I could do to force myself to stop when I smelled vague traces of blood. Her old wound had split open, faint trickles seeping through old scabs, but it wasn't enough to warrant a cease-fire for my _cannon_. She'd made no complaints, save for a disgruntled grunt as I dropped her hands, lifting her up beneath the ass, and moved her along the counter. I perched her carefully on the single-sinks edge, pushing her other leg up over my shoulder.

"Hold on," I growled, and her hands found my hair immediately, holding tight as I resumed my brutal pace. Her fingers curled and pulled at my hair, the only purchase I'd allowed her. I could feel her body gush against me, but for all that I tried, I could not be disgusted by it. No, like her mouth, it was delicious, burning me sweetly 'till I felt alive.

Her fingers slipped in my hair, grasped loosely at my shirt, but she lost her grip, and tumbled backward into the sink basin, stealing away my fire. "Oh, fuck," she gasped, as I hauled her forward, dropping her to her feet.

Her knees gave, and she stumbled as I spun her, spinning her on her toes. I pressed her hips against the counter, and curled an arm around her slender waist, plunging into her without warning from the rear. She groaned, and crumbled forward, catching herself on the steel sink basin, her back arching into a delicious curve.

Letting my arm slide from 'round her waist, I rested my palm on her hip. With my other hand, I yanked her head back by her hair, 'till her throat was exposed, blood beating against the pulse point frantically. Her breath came in gasps and her heart pounded in her chest, but not quite as hard as I pounded into her heat. She couldn't breath like this, or just barely so, but I kept my pace relentlessly, reaching around to brush her clit with two fingers, fucking her into my hand with every slam of my hips against the round of her ass. I kicked her feet apart, and she sank further down upon my thrusting cock. I pulled her head back father, 'till she began to panic, and stroked her clit as she struggled. Only when she came, soaking my balls, did I release her, gasping and spasming around my member.

When I felt my dripping balls pull tight, I pulled myself free of her, riding the cleft of her ass to orgasm, spraying my release across her back in thick, shuddering spurts.

She collapsed beneath me, head resting in the fold of her arms, panting hard. "Ooooh," she moaned, pressing back against me, and her knees gave once again, but I was to fucked-out to catch her in time and she sank to the floor in a drunken, giggling, moaning mess, smearing my venom-seed down my shins.

Only when I regenerated what brain capacity I seemed to have lost via my cock, did I fasten my trousers, and scoop up her torpid body. Her breath beat steadily against my throat as I carried her to the den, depositing her now-sleeping form roughly onto the couch. Her head lolled as her body fell into an unconscious sprawl, one leg falling over the edge of the couch, leaving her spread for all to see. A myriad of tiny bruises speckled her skin, fresh and soft-purple, but I had no guilt in me for her. She had welcomed me with legs spread open, and I had only given her what she had requested. She looked a perfect picture of wanton debauchery, my own battered and bruised Botticelli.

_My own._

Ye Gods. What had I done?

**A/N Holy shit, right? And you all were amazed they kissed! Well. I did make you all wait seventeen chapters for this. They don't love each other, that's for sure, and she's still food as far as Alistair is concerned, but food he'd rather not see die. He can't see her as more then a human, less then he, but maybe being human isn't so bad? The next chapter will be entirely The Morning After. **


	18. Chapter 18

**Hit and Run Chapter 18**

**Author**: lifelesslyndsey

**Summary** : After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life.

**Pairing**: Bella and Alistair

**Warning**: M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know. Minor alcohol/medication use.

**Word Count:** 4,004. I know, I actually bothered to write a decent-length chapter. Mind, I wish it was longer, but I bring what I bring.

**Beta**: MsEerieChastain, my beta lifepartner, has returned to me at last.

Disclaimer: I own nearly nothing; not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!

A/N So, I know that I have been totally out of the game for a bit lately! I lost my mojo, if you see it, send it back care of lifelesslyndsey P.O. Box Eleventy-Seven, Wheresmysammich, Wisconsin. Anyway, enjoy the chapter. I really, really like this chapter, though I don't know why for any particular reason, but I do. And next chapter? Whoa, Big things.

_**Previously, **_

_A myriad of tiny bruises speckled her skin, fresh and soft-purple, but I had no guilt in me for her. She had welcomed me with legs spread open, and I had only given her what she had requested. She looked a perfect picture of wanton debauchery, my own battered and bruised Botticelli._

_My own._

_Ye Gods. What had I done?_

_**And now, as the world turns...**_

**ALISTAIR**

**~!#$%^&**

I was cemented in place, caught in thought and immovable. Her scent clung to me, the sweat of her skin becoming the sweat of my skin; the wet of her mouth sticky on my lips. I could feel her essence on my cock still, clinging to my balls.

For all that I had traveled a long and dusty road, I had never felt so filthy.

I imagined, though, that much of the filth I felt was made up of horror and guilt at my supremely imbecilic actions. I had been...adulterated, attenuated, _impaired_ by...by something. By the girl perhaps; by her very foreign nature, for I was far too strong to be broken by lust, blood or _otherwise_. I certainly wouldn't be persuaded by any of her drunken womanly...wiles. And I doubted the girl of any inveigle; she was hardly subtle enough to manipulate the likes of me. And yet, I had been taken in by something. By what?

I couldn't say.

I watched her wake from the shadows of the cabin, safely hidden from her view. She peeled herself up off the couch with a grimace, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand. Her pale, tapered fingers tugged through her still-damp hair, brushing it from her face. Shivering and naked, she tugged the decorative throw from the back of the couch, easing it over her shoulders and I felt a moment of stupidity flitter through me. Of course she'd be cold when waking; although when I had fled, I hadn't her needs in mind. Only the singular thought of momentary escape; I had needed to distance myself from the scent of her skin, sex, and soap water, hanging heavy in the air.

She winced, clamping her eyes shut even in the low light. The grimace of distaste on her face sent a momentary thrill of insult. I smothered it mirthlessly with will alone. I would not be so affected by her, she who had lured me like the Sirens of the sea. _And wasn't that a thought_, I mused; for I may not have found her in the sea, but I had found her stranded and wet on my pilfered doorstep. This girl was no siren, but the irony was not lost upon the Pirate. Watching her stretch, shoulders rolling beneath the blanket, letting it slide to reveal her naked, bruise-painted hips, I was disgusted with myself.

She bore my marks upon her now more prudent then any mere bite. I'd mapped out her body in blue and black and she'd screamed and begged for more. I'd been inside her; I wondered very nearly against my will if I was the only Vampire who could claim as much. I doubted it, though, as why else would Carlisle's Mind-Reader keep the girl at all? Why had I?

Oh yes. To return her.

Something like acid curled up inside me, burning where it touched, at the thought of be-stowing her upon the Cullen Boy like a ransom; where my only reward was to be free of her at last. _Free of her_, I thought, and the acid continued to burn me at the thought. The boat continued on, cutting safely through the waters on its preset course, but I was distracted. It would be my distraction, _her_, that would be my folly in the end, I think. I had taken her to return her to Carlisle and his wretch of a son, and yet the same son followed and I did not stop. I did not stop this crazy course of action; this journey I had spilled myself into, with this girl I had spilled myself onto. Why wasn't I stopping? Why hadn't I turned this ship around and thrust her off into the waters for the sharks, or bigger prey? What was it to me if she lived; for could I guarantee she'd live? Carlisle, no, he'd never hurt the girl, but could the same be said for the boy?

_ No_, I thought.

_No, he already has hurt her._

And it had left marks, as surely as my too-hard finger tips had, pressing into her heart rather than her flesh. She bore a vengeance even I could not ignore, against the pretty Cullen Family. Such a strange thing, to bear my own vengeance for the same action; I had never liked the boy overly-much, but now it seemed I loathed him for his very existence. When had this come about? I couldn't be sure but then a frightful notion bubbled up inside me.

The Reader would see it, those things inside me I dared not acknowledge myself, lurking beneath the surface of my mind like shadows on water. No, it was really very prudent we continued forth; really very prudent his path never crosses with mine.

_ Mine_, my mind echoed.

Mine.

I felt my lips curl back at the thought, but couldn't place the exact current of displeasure. Was it displeasure at all, or was it something more primal and possessive? Oh _Poseidon_, but I felt torn for the first time in centuries; beast and man within finding no state of harmony. And for all that I waged a war upon myself; I could not say which side fought for what. _Mine_, my mind echoed again, and the beast growled, but it came out like that of a contented purr.

But the girl, the wretched human girl was not mine, nor would I ever craze such a thing. She was human, vulnerable and disgusting; what use did I have of a companion as such? She offered me nothing but temptation of the darkest kind, for which I did not appreciate. For what would I wish to keep her save for a fuck or food, both of which could be sought elsewhere and with less mental complication?

_ But as a vampire_...

What would be my argument then, I wondered, and very nearly growled aloud. Ye Gods, I wondered, did vampires imprint like duckling? Had, after so many years, I attached myself upon this pathetic child? Days, I thought in wonder, days had passed in her company, and there wasn't a soul alive or otherwise that could claim as much. Not even Carlisle, my dearest friends. Dear God, who had yet to spare me a moment of leniency, had I come to covet the human? How could I betray myself so thusly to find myself ...not enamored but enthralled by that which I saw as little more then food. She was food, she was blood at best and little more, and yet my mind would not release the fanciful question ...

_What if she were a vampire?_

_Mine_, my mind echoed again, and the beast within purred.

What had that devil-girl done to me?

I could not say, so instead, I did what I did best, and I buried it.

I would not be defeated by a _sandwich_.

**BELLA**

**!#$%^&**

Morning punched me in the face with the disorientation that only came when waking up in a bed that wasn't yours. The smell of leather confused me, warm against my skin. Vague memories of a biker in Port Angeles fluttered through my mind; no, that wasn't last night, that was years ago. Through the thin layer of my eyelids, I could tell that where ever the fuck I was, it was dark. The sensation of darkness threw off my internal-clock which told me that there should have been sunlight pouring in my hotel window, and pissing me the fuck off. The room sloshed back and forth, inertia pouring over me along with a rising tide of facts and memories.

I ached inside and out, naked, sticky and pasted to a couch.

If only I could say it was the first time.

I didn't need the details to know that someone had a very good time last night, and that it was most likely me, given that it felt like I'd fucked a fire hydrant. The smell of come and Jack brought back a lot of unwarranted memories.

Considering my options aboard the boat, yacht, ship whatever, I kind of hoped I found a fire-hydrant when I opened my eyes. Peering out into the shadowy darkness, I sighed. No fire extinguishing implements, then.

Damn. I'd gone and fucked the bastard.

I peeled myself of the couch, and made a note thank him for at least pulling out. I really didn't want to know what Vampire come was made of, but if it was venom, I didn't want it anywhere near my uterus, thank you very much. Although his aim left something to be desired, if the cursory fingers-through-the-hair morning comb was anything to go by. Dried vampire jizz had the consistency of over-cooked spaghetti sauce. Is it a liquid? Is it a solid? Sticky, thick and probably chewy, but I wasn't taking that hit for science; the world could just keep on wondering.

I rubbed my eyes, sleep-puffy and a little crusty. It was fucking cold, and every ache in my abused bones protested at the early-morning chill. I yanked the pretty, decorative blanket-thing off the back of the couch and worked it around me like a goddamn cape. I was a fucking mess, but I couldn't deny the post-fuck tingles of sedation that came the morning after a really awesome orgasm. Although, I didn't doubt that the bastard could probably fuck a lamp-post to double o-town; he looked uptight enough to fuck like a beast. Sure as fuck felt like he put his back into it, I thought. It looked like some one had finger-painted me with bruises; pink, purple, and that lovely shade of dead-grass green. Handsy fucker; he had to have been, if the finger-print marks were anything to go bye, he had his hands all over me.

I took a moment to mentally pat myself on the back for fucking someone as hot as him. For someone who had clearly been rocking the homeless person look for a very long time, the fucker was gorgeous; shamefully so. Fucking him had been a favor to us both. And then, with only the painful self-honesty that comes with early mornings after drinking, did I remind myself that he was a misanthropic ass-hole without the modicum of acceptable social skills and also a Vampire. He probably didn't get many offers, and I was pretty sure I had done everything in the way of offering except hop on his fucking dick and ride him like a pony. And I wasn't really sure I didn't do that. I got a little frisky when I drank.

It was one of the reasons I made it a point to never, ever, drink in front of other people. There had been one too many incidents where pants had been lost, and sloppy, vodka-flavored blow jobs had been given. There wasn't a pack member I hadn't hit on or border-line sexually assaulted. Hell, even Emily had been victim to my overtures, though I'm pretty sure that Sam hadn't really minded when I put my hand up her skirt after one too many Jaeger-shots. I mean, it had taken a fifth of Captain for me to lose it enough to fuck _Paul_, but it happened. The only consolation to that total fucking misfortune was that I'd already blown Quill earlier that evening, so Paul got a mouth full of Quill-spunk when I kissed him. I took my wins where I could. Getting punched in the face by Rachel the next day had not really been worth it.

And if drunk-Bella was a goddamn dirty whore, hung-over Bella was nostalgic. I'd rather drive off a cliff than take a trip down memory lane. I groaned, rubbing my face.

The point was that a drunken Bella was a dirty little slut, and I didn't like to play with her anymore. Except for when I did, apparently.

Either way, unpracticed or not, he knew what he was doing. The happy aftermath of awesome sex was almost enough to take my mind off the blinding fucking headache. I breathed in through my nose, and out my mouth, pushing down on the very urgent need to puke up the disappointing contents of my stomach. It didn't help that as I reached to scratch an itch on my back, my nails had scraped through...well. At least he pulled out; I suppose that is what matters.

Giving myself a moment, I gave myself a mental once-over. My mouth tasted like cotton balls dipped in expired milk, hidden in a can of tuna and left in the sun for a week. I had come in my hair, down my ass crack, and up my back. Judging by the embarrassingly sticky state of my thighs, I had gone Super-Soaker on him. Old Faithful had nothing on me; I could fucking _gush_ if properly stimulated. So all in all, it was a good night.

The scent of smoke and sea-water caught my nose, making my stomach roil in protest. And to the contrary of my hangover, it also made my downstairs tingle. Goddamn, was I still fucking drunk? "If you're going to stand there and stare at me, the least you could fucking do is make me some coffee. I mean, what's a girl got to do to get some fucking coffee? Fuck you? Well, check that off the list and make me a mocha."

He stepped from the corner, parting shadows around him like a ghost. Even in the darkness, he seemed to shine a little, more like a pearl than a diamond at any rate.

"You're as charming this morning as ever, I see," he said, his gravel-filled voice grating over my nerves. "Wouldn't it be more appropriate for me to offer you breakfast?"

"So you do understand humor?" I snarked back, peering up at him between my fingers. "My brain aches, and all I want is a fucking Advil and a goddamn coffee. That's breakfast, right?"

"It is, perhaps, the very most your stomach will handle, I should think, after imbibing such copious amounts of...whiskey, was it?" he replied, before perching himself so prettily upon the coffee table. His coat was gone; oh yes, he'd given that to me, leaving him in a thin cotton shirt and jeans. I hadn't noticed prior to this, but he wore, much to my amusement, heavily-abused Doc Martens. I doubted he cared for the brand, aiming instead for a sensible leather boot. The man was a mystery. A very pretty mystery. He looked less homeless and more bad-boy this morning, which apparently my downstairs brain appreciated, but my upstairs brain resented quite deeply.

"Perhaps I'll puke on you on principal," I snapped back, and his smirk deepened. "I hate you."

"I could eat you, you know," he replied conversationally.

"You'd probably get drunk. At any rate, I'd rather you kill me than drop me off with the Cullens like an unwanted fruitcake. There isn't anything I want less, than for them to find me, or me to find them."

He stared, unblinkingly, for too long a time until I began to squirm beneath the scrutiny. "Hey," I said, to no avail. "Hey, you. Bastard. _Alistair_."

That did it, so it would seem, for his head fell to the side, his stare no less intense. "I don't like it when you use my name."

"Alistair?" I said, maybe just to annoy him, but whatever. "Why?"

"It alludes to a sense of familiarity which we do not share," he replied primly, adding as an afterthought, "_girl_."

I had to mock his eyebrow and raise one of my own at that because, really, what the fuck? "Uh, I hate to break it to you, Captain Happy, but we're about as familiar as two people can get. I'm pretty sure I have an ass-crack full of your dried, vampire-come gluing me to the couch."

"Crass, but what can I expect from a human," he retorted sharply, fingers clenching in the denim of his jeans. He was _flustered_, and how utterly adorable was that?

"I'm crass? I'm not the one who fucked his dinner, now am I? Although, there was this one time that Quill dared me to stick a cucum-" I shut up, suddenly feeling flustered myself. I needed my fucking coffee. "That's not important."

"As you say," he replied airily. "On another note entirely, how are you feeling? If I leave will I return to you a wet and whimpering, drunken mess once again? I'll say, had I known how tiring it would grow to continue saving you, I'd have killed you out-right."

"So I had a drink. Yeah, shaving and drinking on a boat is probably not the smartest thing I've ever done, but I wasn't in any real danger. There was no need for you to come rush...come rushing. Hey...you're in the cabin of the ship. Why are you in the cabin of the ship? You hate the cabin of the ship."

He blinked at me, wide eyes bright and fresh with blood. Hmm. "I don't know what you mean."

I scoffed, kicking my feet off the couch and letting them fall to the floor. We were close now, dangerously so, and I was naked, and he was pretty. My downstairs brain was pretty damned stupid because I didn't like the bastard even if, apparently, he could fuck me though the floor. "You said you don't come down here. Ever. You..." I felt myself smile, a little too cruelly than was really merited, but my head hurt and I wanted to take it out on him. "You came rushing down here to save me. You were worried."

"I thought you had injured yourself," he said haughtily. "If you were going to die, I was at least going to make a meal out of it."

"So what? You slipped and fell and your dick landed inside of me?" I asked, because honestly that part was a little blurry.

"No," he bit out. "You accosted me."

"I weigh ninety-seven pounds, and I was drunk," I replied mildly. "As if I could ever make you do anything you didn't want."

He glared. "You kissed me, then begged me to fuck you."

"I did not!" But I wasn't certain that I didn't. In fact, given my current state of thought when I'd started drinking, it made a lot of sense. "You could have told me no."

"Why would I want to?" he countered, his own smirk forming. "You weren't a bad lay. Clearly I was wrong when I said you weren't without merit. You would have made a wonderful port wench."

"I am not a hooker!" I snapped, seriously affronted, because hello, I'd fucked him and clearly he needed it. It had, apparently, done wonders for the stick in his ass. I was a goddamn miracle worker.

He grinned, looking too smug for my liking. "You assume we paid them at all," he sneered, propping his boot up on the couch beside my knee.

"Ass. Look, I really can't remember much of last night, you know? Except for wallowing in my own self-pity, drunken shaving, and...and..." I paused, letting my eyes flutter close for a moment before a memory caught clear as day. "You drank from me! You bastard!"

He looked affronted, and then amused, emotions shuttering across his face like a slide show. "You shoved your bleeding wound _in my face_," he growled, sitting up straighter, as his smirk returned as fast as it faded. "Who was I to turn down a snack? I'll have to admit, your blood tastes almost as good as your _pussy_."

The last word was said with intent, and he'd gotten what he wanted as my skin erupted in a fiery pink blush. I was crass and rude, but to hear it from him was another thing entirely.

"Now," he said at length, reveling in my obvious mortification. "I'm going to go take a little swim and wash you out of my beard, and off my bollocks. I'm starting to feel a little sticky."

I stared at him, face hot and stomach flopping. It wasn't shame, per se, but definitely a weird mixture of pride and embarrassment. "You...you...oh my God!" I nearly shrieked, throwing up my hands in defeat. "Fine, you little frozen fucker. You win this round, but I'm not done with you yet." I'd concede this battle and call Uncle. He'd gotten me good. I was very nearly proud.

I watched him rise up from his folded position on the coffee table as graceful as ever, his boot brushing across my bare knee. His shoulders were tense, pulled tight to his body, and even for his previously relaxed pose, I could tell he was screaming to ghost from the tiny, cloistered cabin. So when he paused at the stairwell to speak I was surprised, but perhaps not as surprised as I was by his question.

His head fell to the side, dark hair spilling over his shoulder in another tangled mess and I wondered rather morbidly if he'd let me brush it. "Is it true what you said? You'd rather be dead than return to the Cullens?"

I blinked, too stunned to speak outright, but the words came to me at last and I spat them with as much proverbial-venom I could muster. "I'd rather be gummed on by a tooth-less alligator. I would rather deep fry my own spleen and eat it. I would rather lose my mind, get arrested, scare my parents, my friends, run away from home and...and get in a car crash in Europe in the rain, than ever see them again. To tell you the truth, Alistair," I said, feeling the weight of my words, the truth of them, sink into me like a heat wave, "you've kidnapped me, tied me up, knocked me around, yelled at me, dropped me, forgotten to feed me and laughed at me when I peed on myself and I'd pick _you_ over them any day."

**ALISTAIR**

**!#$%^&**

Her words clung to my skin, each one its own raindrop, heavy and sliding. _ 'I'd pick you', _she'd said, and wasn't that baffling. I'd abused her, and mocked her, and harmed her and yet to her this did not compare to the treatment of the Cullen Collective? They had really hurt her, though I suspected that it was teenage heartbreak; wounds always lingered where emotion was involved.

I tampered down on that thought, peeling off my shirt and dropping it carelessly on the deck. My denims I left, for who in their right mind would want to swim with the fishes with their...bait and tackle exposed for the world. No, I left my bits safely tucked away in my jeans as I dived into the crystalline waters of the South Atlantic.

I sank into the water, letting it swallow me into its darkness. The silhouette of the boat was dark against the morning sun, and I hid in its murky shadows lest I become a beacon for all the underwater beasties. I let myself fall into contemplation, for here underwater, it was safe to think.

So think I did.

_'I'd pick you.'_

And that was all well and grand, but I'd no need for her. No need for a demanding little she-beast that must need be watered and fed regularly. My life had been simple, perfect in its solitude; if I'd not been particularly happy, I'd been content. And now, I was very much neither; I was livid and confused and hiding from a bloody little girl on my own ship. She was a nuisance to no end, but...

But what?

There _was_ _no_ 'but'.

**A/N **Right, Ali-baby. Keep telling yourself that.

**A/N **Also, Once Bitten, Twice Shy was nominated in the Walk of Fame awards which, is like super awesome. It was nominated in the catagory of 'Mystress of Mystery' for keeping y'all on your toes. I've been nominated with some seriously big fic's, which is awesome (The Orbiting Meteor, Conversations With My Killer, University of Masen, Edward Masen; Dick for Hire ect). So, if any of you care to vote for little ole' me, voting start on the 15th, and you can vote here...

www. (dot) (cot)com


	19. Chapter 19

**Hit and Run Chapter** 19

**Author**: lifelesslyndsey

**Summary** : After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life.

**Pairing**: Bella and Alistair

**Warning**: M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know. Minor alcohol/medication use.

**Word** **Count**: 3.6. I know, I wanted it longer, but it didn't happen.

**Beta**: MsEerieChastain, my beta lifepartner, has returned to me at last.

**Disclaimer**: I own nearly nothing; not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!

A/N Sorry for the long ass wait. I'm right in the middle of moving to a new apartment across town, and it's consuming all my freaking time. That being said, this chapter kicked my ass. I knew what I wanted to happen, but it just wouldn't come. As is, I like this chapter, I just...it isn't how I wanted it exactly. I wanted to get Alistair's part in, but it didn't happen. Feels weak to me. I don't like where I ended it, but I wanted to give you something. So here it is.

**Previously **

_And that was all well and grand, but I'd no need for her. No need for a demanding little she-beast that must need be watered and fed regularly. My life had been simple, perfect in its solitude; if I'd not been particularly happy, I'd been content. And now, I was very much neither; I was livid and confused and hiding from a bloody little girl on my own ship. She was a nuisance to no end, but..._

_But what?_

_There was no 'but'._

**BELLA  
!#$%^&**

I watched Alistair go, peeling myself up off the couch with a grimace. The bathroom, I found, was a mess of broken glass, and blood; what the fuck had I been thinking last night? I grabbed the flimsy broom from the narrow utility closet and swept the curved shards of shattered glass into a pile in the corner. Another cursory rummage through the medicine cabinet gifted me with a fresh toothbrush and some Advil, both of which I sent a silent prayer to the bathroom-gods for. Sweet bliss; found in fresh breath and a clear head.

Draining the water from the tub, I watched it swirl away, leaving little more than an unpleasant ring on the ceramic. Standing beneath the pulsing shower spray, I washed away our commingled bodily fluids, along with the collective whiskey-scented sweat form my skin. Tangible evidence gone, I was left with little more than the memory of last night and Alistair's parting question.

_I would pick him_, I thought with a vengeance, toweling away the lingering droplets of water from my skin as I padded back down the narrow hallway to the bedroom where I'd left my things. He'd mistreated me in too many ways to count, but he was _trying_, and he hadn't abandoned me, even when I'd pleaded. He hadn't left me, even though I would have welcomed it, so at least I could believe with a modicum of truth that he kept his word, crazy as his word was. _At least he tried_, I thought, rummaging through the meager contents suitcase, finding a pair of pale green granny-panties, a faded Goonies t-shirt, and a pair of socks that didn't even match, navy blue and grey.

I let my mind wander over the previous three days; the car-crash, the kidnapping, the _everything_. It had been a long, painful, trying three days, but I felt more alive than I'd ever had, even fearing for my life. I didn't feel so delicate, so desperate to prove myself strong or brave or independent. Because with the bastard, I _was_. For all that Alistair had claimed me nothing more than food, he'd shown more respect for me as a person than the Cullens ever had. He hadn't coddled me, even when I'd fallen in my own piss. He'd knocked me around, and told me to shut the fuck up, and fucked me stupid. If anything, I couldn't help but admire him for being everything the Cullens were not. Alistair felt more real to me then they ever did. He was a _man_, not a myth, and it amazed me.

Dear fucking God, I _liked_ him.

Huh.

Revelations went best with coffee, I decided, turning to the orgasmic coffee machine. Within minutes I had in my hand a frothing cup of caramel mocha decadence and an answer. I stared into the fluffy clouds of foam blanketing my coffee, watching the little bubbles pop like exceptionally quiet rice crispies. I _did_ like him, the unmitigated bastard. He was funny, and sharp. It was hard work, teaching yourself not to care, but he had it down to a science and I respected that.

I respected _him_.

He'd seen a lot, more than I could imagine, but it was written on his face, the curl of his mouth when he sneered, and in the red of his eyes. He was old, with stories never written, forgotten by all but him. I could understand why he'd fought to detach himself from the world. For what did he have, but a slew of brethren who would rather see him dead than bear the possibility of threat? The only comfort he could find in humans would be limited to comfort food and he didn't seem like the kind of man who indulged.

I wondered if the strange pulling in my chest was for him. Could I ache for the bastard; did I pity him? A little perhaps, but I understood the desperate need for solitude. I'd lost my taste for company long ago. Everyone felt too young for me, and if I felt that way, I couldn't imagine Alistair. I wondered what he was like before the world burned him; was he always so hardened? Did he once have friends? Had he ever fallen in love? When was the last time he laughed? He'd laughed with me, but it seemed hardened, too broken to really matter. I knew laughs like that.

I wondered too, if his regard for me could be considered friendly by comparison, and found myself hoping that maybe it was. I sipped at my coffee, wiping foam from lip with my pinky. It was hot and bittersweet, burning my throat in all the right ways 'til I felt human again.

Wandering about the little cabin, I stumbled back into the unused bedroom. On the door hung a mirror and I couldn't help but look. _Too skinny_, I thought at my reflection. Too skinny, too pale, too jaded; I wasn't the girl I once was. My hair hung limp around my face in sad excuses for curls, and my skin was waxy on my bones. I looked gaunt; I hadn't been eating. I looked like a stranger, but the truth was, I'd been looking like a stranger for a long time. I dipped my fingers into the foam floating atop my coffee cup and smeared it across my reflection in defiance. I didn't know who I was any more beyond my name. I was Bella Swan, indistinguishable mid-twenties, brown hair, brown eyes. Just another Jane Doe. Just another failure.

Being hung-over made me emo, apparently.

The white foam slid down the mirrors surface in lines of three, leaving behind them a sticky opaque trail down my reflected face, then neck, then chest. When had I let myself get so bad? Goddamn, I was Bella Swan; I'd fucked werewolves, and lived through vampire attacks. I'd been in bed with monsters; why was life kicking my ass?

I was Bella Fucking Swan, and I was sick of being a failure. I took a step back from the mirror, and took a deep drink from my coffee, before hurling the half-full mug at my reflection. I laughed as the shiny shards of glass rained down, peering up at me from the floor. I was done with this woe-is-me-shit. Fuck Edward, that shit was years ago. I'd found a cooler vampire anyway; Alistair beat Edward hands down any day. I felt more like myself than I had in a long time with him; there was no need to strive for perfection, he didn't fucking care. I could eat like a pig, piss myself and fart and he wouldn't care; he thought I was generally disgusting anyway. My days with Alistair had been liberating. A laugh startled out of me at the thought as I grinned wide and maybe a little maniacal. I was going to _keep_ him, this vampire. Alistair was mine now, whether the bristly little fucker liked it or not.

"I don't remember you ever being this messy," a voice curled up out of the doorway like a snake, sending chills through my body. I prayed that he was a figment of my warped and questionable imagination. But I knew better; I had always known better. As if knowing had ever stopped me in the past; apparently old habits die hard, or in my case get bitten by a vampire and live forever.

So I knew better, as a chill swept the room; I could feel him at my shoulder peering down. His face shined up at me from the floor at a billion different angles from the broken glass, each reflection sharper then the shard itself. My heart raced, and I damned him for hearing it. "What are you doing here?" I snarled, every muscle in my body systematically tensing.

"What do you mean?" Edward asked, sounding truly confused by my hostility. "We came to rescue you."

"You know that Alistair wouldn't hurt me, Edward," I replied, wondering where I could step to distance myself from him. The floor before me was blanketed in glass, leaving me trapped between the potential for blood, or the potential for bastard. Neither were looking decidedly good, at the moment. "Alice must have seen something."

"...Alice has seen surprisingly little," Edward conceded, turning his head to breathe me in. I shivered, revulsion tingling up my spine. He'd gotten creepier over the years, apparently. "She saw enough to concern me. We were forced to track you mostly by rather...primitive means. Your disappearance garnered a lot of news, Bella. We managed to pick up Alistair's scent in a house near where your car was found. We lost your trail when the GPS signal we were following faded out, but by this time we were near enough Italy to be intercepted by the Volturi, who had by then assigned several vampires to the...case, per se."

I let him talk, uninterrupted, as I bid my time for Alistair to return. I was sure he would sense them; he wouldn't leave me alone with Edward, would he? 

"Aro was not pleased with the attention your disappearance was gaining; coupled with a violent murder in a bathroom you were seen at, it was enough to concern him. When we were intercepted, we asked for his aid, and he gave us Demetri. I feared I wouldn't find you."

"Alistair was returning me to...Carlisle," I said carefully, truthfully. "Alice didn't see that? It was his intentions from the very beginning."

"Oh it was," Edward agreed, curling a finger into my hair. "But after witnessing some of his mistreatment via Alice's vague visions, I felt it imperative I intercept you quickly." He paused, nose pressed into my hair. "And his intentions have changed; I can't be sure, as I have said, things are vague, but it looked very much like he wanted to _keep_ you, Bella." He finished with a haughty little laugh, hand curving over my shoulder so his long, cold fingertips could brush across my collar bone. "His smell is all over you, all over the captain. He violated you, didn't he? I'll kill him, I swear it love."

Fear gripped me, sticking in my chest. "Where is he? Where's Alistair?"

"He hasn't returned," Edward replied, fingers gripping me a little too tightly, as if he'd forgotten how delicate he needed to be. "I assume he's swimming? His mind is muffled; water might do that, I can't be sure. As if it would matter; he's thinking in an entirely different language. And old one, I don't understand it."

"English isn't his first language," I replied absently, remembering the strange way Alistair swore. It would make sense he thought in whatever language he spoke a thousand years ago; Gaelic or whatever. Didn't he say his dad was Scottish? I swallowed, feeling anger bubble up in side me, hot and sticky. "He didn't violate me, Edward. I came on to him. I fucking begged him," I hissed. He tensed and I was shot with a strange sort of vindication.

"He's brainwashed you," Edward said, but doubt was creeping into his smooth voice. "I'm saving you; he mistreats you. Alice said he manhandles you grievously."

"Maybe I like it," I shot back, licking my lips. "I'm not leaving with you Edward. I'm staying with Alistair."

"You are mistaken on both accounts, butterfly," someone said, ghosting through the room in a blur of sparkling white. "You are not staying with Alistair, because you are leaving with _me_." His voice was heavily accented, lilting and hard.

"Demetri," Edward warned, but the new vampire silenced him with a look.

"You made an agreement, Cullen. For my aid, you were to allow Aro to meet Bella. He is anxious to learn all that he can of the slippery pirate," Demetri said, and I swallowed hard. They wanted me to rat Alistair out? What did I even know about the man? "You wouldn't attempt to back out of your end of the bargain, would you, Cullen?"

Edward bristled, tension radiating from his body behind me as his hand clenched unconsciously on my shoulder. "Of course not," he said coolly.

"Then perhaps we should take our leave, before the pirate makes his entrance," Demetri replied, a smirk curling at his lips. I tensed, jerking forward suddenly, surprising Edward. "My men will await him while we take our leave; to explain the...situation."

My feet slipped in the glass, slicing through the soft soles of my mismatched socks, and subsequently the flesh of my feet. "No!" I bellowed through a hiss of pain. "I'm not going. I'm staying with Alistair. I'm not a lump of fucking meat you can haul around, dammit!"

"I beg to differ," Demetri replied, capturing my wrist and dragging me forward. I stumbled in the glass, tripping to my knees. He wasted no time hauling me back up as rivets of blood stained my legs, soaking into my socks. "You are little more than a meal, darling, but Master wishes to see you, and Master gets what he wants." His nostrils flared as he hauled me upright, pupils dilating in the red of his eyes, but he made no move to harm me further. I cast a look back at Edward, whose chest was still and breathless.

"Edward..." I said helplessly, desperate enough to turn to him when all else failed. He owed me that much.

"I made a promise," Edward replied, eyes flickering downward. "We must visit Aro, and then I'll take you home," he said, his voice quiet in an attempt to reassure me.

"No, no, no! I don't have a fucking home, you junkless fuck!" I snapped, jerking in Demetri's firm grim. "You can't do this to me!"

"We can," Demetri assured me. "And we are. Come along, butterfly, we need to be leaving." Suddenly his smirking face flinched, twitching up into a snarl. "We've dallied too long. The pirate's sensed us."

"We have to go," a familiar voice chirped from the hallway. "He's...not pleased," Alice explained, casting me a golden-eyed look of apology.

"Alistair!" I bellowed, struggling haplessly in Demetris arms. "_Alistair_!"

"Oh he can't help you, butterfly," Demetri growled through a grin, pushing me down the hallway. My feet left squelching wet, red footprints in the beige carpet, each one smeared where I stumbled. I could feel glass embedded in my knees, streaming ribbons of blood down my skin and I was woozy with it. "I brought a couple of friends to entertain him. We all know how Alistair could use the company."

Demetri caught me by the waist as I pushed myself forward, pinning my flailing limbs to my side as I struggled against him. "Let me go you fucking bastard! Leave him alone! He didn't do shit!"

"Oh butterfly," Demetri replied, sing-song, as I was lead up the narrow stairs, his hand insistent on the small of my back. "Alistair has evaded his Master for far too long. It's time he paid his dues."

"He has no Master," I snapped, glaring over my shoulder. "Aro is a joke. He's a puffed up bastard who somehow got you all to bow down and suck his cock like a bunch of pussi-"

"Bella," Edward said sharply, as Demetri pushed me roughly through the door. I stumbled across the deck just in time to see Alistair emerge from the waters, red eyes narrowed at my captors as water slid from his body, pooling at his feet. The sun escaped behind the clouds, the first time it had in days. I saw Alistair shine for the first time, looking more like crushed pearls than diamonds, a soft, dangerous shimmer illuminating his broad, naked chest. He was painfully beautiful, outshining every other bastard aboard, and looking twice as lethal. His teeth were bared, glinting sharply as he squared his shoulders, muscles rippling beneath the steel of his skin.

"Let her go," he commanded, his voice holding a promise of pain. "She's nothing to you."

"And she is something to you?" Demetri taunted, brushing his thumb down my cheek. A pitiful little growl escaped my lips and Demetri laughed. "What a butterfly this one, she is," he cooed. "So skittish, so delicate. I could crush her with a kiss."

"You have no right to her," Alistair snapped, looking almost as surprised at himself as I felt. "I've done nothing wrong. I keep to myself and harm no one. I'm not a thing to be claimed, by neither Aro or God himself. I am my own man."

"You've done much wrong," Demetri countered, propping his heavy chin on the crown of my head and embracing me like a lover in his arms. Disgust coiled up in me, and I felt my stomach flip. "Aro was willing to overlook the media attention brought on by the kidnapping; such behavior is easily expected of humans. However, you allowed her to be seen by the public, and by way, yourself. You left a trail, Alistair, you must be getting lax in your old age; the bloodless corpse found in gas station bathroom, where you also stole a car. And the dockhand that went missing did not help."

"How many women and children disappeared from the streets of Volterra to feed your gilded leeches where they sit upon their throne? My crimes are little in comparison, and no worse than that which I've done before. I abide by no man's rules, least of all Aros," Alistair growled. "I've done nothing wrong."

"You're catering to the whims of a human," Demetri replied lightly. "Not enough to get you in trouble, but certainly enough to find disdainful. And this human in particular."

"It wasn't I who spilled our secrets," Alistair replied. "Aro's beloved Cullen did that; I wished merely to return her to Carlisle, as it was his problem. Aro himself would do no less for Carlisle. "

"And yet you continued your plight even after Edward and Alice sought her? Surely you knew they were after her," Demetri said, petting at my hair as if I were a kitten. I bristled at his touch, eyes flickering between Edward and Alistair. He hadn't told me Edward was after me, and I wondered at that, why he would keep it from me, and for how long.

"Carlisle is the patriarch of the Cullen Clan. If I were to return her to anyone, it would be him," Alistair replied blithely.

_If I were to return her_, he had said. I swallowed, fear and hope warring up inside me. He wasn't going to sell me out like this; he wasn't going to hand me over so easily.

"As it were, it hardly matters. Her audience has been promised to Aro. We've come to collect. You're like to join us, if your interest-"

The growl was piercing, an ethereal rumble that shook my bones. It happened in a blur, fast enough to smear the air around me like watercolors. Alistair stalked forward, lunging with a rush of displaced air. I reached out for him, choking on a scream.

They emerged from the waters, more vampires, strange ones I'd never seen. They came as a set of twins with ginger hair and a surprising lack of freckles, a mirror of movements as fluid as water. They sprang to his sides, hands grasping his forearms mid-lunge, yanking him back hard enough to tear a hiss from his snarling lips. I'd never seen anything like them, anyone to match their speed. They moved as one with twice the power and surprise, but their attack was anything but; their attack was a distraction. Alistair fought, valiant and dirty as one would expect. I didn't think he'd lose, no not Alistair. But in the moments they kept him, I was taken away, and not even the power of my bloodshot doe-eyes could quell Alice or Edward to save me. I settled for betrayed, and struggled for the hell of it, dragging my bloody feet across the deck. Demetri huffed, hauling my limp weight easily as snarls tore through the air.

"Alistair!" I bellowed, the last benediction I'd ever claim, reaching out my hand into the cat-fight like an idiot. It might have been a romantic moment, when his hand reached out to mine, and we were forcibly torn from each others fingertips and thrown overboard, with an entire boat, no ship, between us. It wasn't romantic, it was violent and cruel. I could see him, blurred by the blue of the ocean, as water filled my open lungs. He fought, and it was pretty, but that could have been the lack of oxygen getting to me. Cloudy swirls of purple-red trailed at my feet and knees, exploding in the waters. Alistair ripped one of the twins' arms off and the water shuddered with the tear of that metallic flesh. He had in his hand what I thought was a knife, but it made no sense in the hand of a vampire. I laughed, maybe not outward, but inward, and thought he'd never looked more like a pirate then he did there in the blue waters.

My lungs burned, and I struggled in vain against the brute body of Demetri, who made no move to swim, but bobbed in the waters, with me in tow. Bubbles escaped my mouth, small and nearly airless, when Edward rushed forward, slamming the heel of his hand into Demetris neck and pointed upward.

"Air," he bubbled. "She need's air."

He said it at the same moment Alice said: "_Sharks_."

And the blue faded to black, swallowing me whole. I was dying and it hurt. Drowning is not peaceful, it is slow burning; a dragged out curse, a struggle to grasp at anything where there is nothing to grasp. The last thing I saw, through a hazy blur of water and death, was Alistair's watery, bubbling cry of victory, ginger head clutched in his hands, as its body floated downwards.

Then I saw no more.

A/N This isn't where I originally wanted to end this chapter, but it's what happened. So yeah. No one saw this coming eh?


	20. Chapter 20

**Hit and Run Chapter** 19

**Author**: lifelesslyndsey

**Summary** : After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life.

**Pairing**: Bella and Alistair

**Warning**: M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know. Minor alcohol/medication use.

**Word** **Count**: Just under 6k. I wanted a chapter with a little meat in it.

**Beta**: MsEerieChastain, my beta lifepartner, has returned to me at last. She gives good bj's. Beta Jobs, people.

**Disclaimer**: I own nearly nothing; not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!

**A/N** So, so, so. I totally know that I made you wait a ridiculously long time for this chapter. Like, over a month. It's been a crazy month. Finished moving, and I recently started watching another kid in the house. You know, two babies? So much harder than one. But I'm here now, with a broken tailbone, and some free time! So, let me know what you think of the Hit and Run comeback with some fantastical reviews to keep me writing.

**Previously, on Hit and Run**

_My lungs burned, and I struggled in vain against the brute body of Demetri, who made no move to swim, but bobbed in the waters, with me in tow. Bubbles escaped my mouth, small and nearly airless, when Edward rushed forward, slamming the heel of his hand into Demetri's neck and pointed upward._

_"Air," he bubbled. "She needs air."_

_He said it at the same moment Alice said: "Sharks."_

_And the blue faded to black, swallowing me whole. I was dying and it hurt. Drowning is not peaceful, it is slow burning; a dragged out curse, a struggle to grasp at anything where there is nothing to grasp. The last thing I saw, through a hazy blur of water and death, was Alistair's watery, bubbling cry of victory, ginger head clutched in his hands, as its body floated downwards._

_Then I saw no more_

**ALISTAIR**

I blame myself, of course.

There used to be a day when I would have blamed her for the previous error. It was hard to think that such a time was only five or six days past. I would have prostrated, huffed, and puffed to myself that it was her own fault; that she had lead me to distraction, to the catastrophe at hand. There used to be a day when she would not have mattered, but she'd wormed her way beneath the skin with pure mettle and moxie. And I had been left behind in her wake without even the strength to spite her for it.

But such was the way of women, strong women more so; I had never met stronger.

But the fault was my own; the distraction mine. If it had been caused by her, I had allowed it; I had allowed her to somehow matter when nothing else did. Five days, naught a week or a year, but five days had caused an avalanche in my mind. They called this a shift, a paradigm shift, when one's way of thinking is so drastically changed.

I had sunk into the blue waters, buoyed by nothing. The ocean was a womb to me; I had been reborn in her ruthless currents. I sank until I hit cliffs, canyons deep in the Caribbean waters, frequented by sharks and octopus. There was as sunken ship nearby, one I'd visited before, but I had no desire to see her murky planks, the gaping, algae covered hole in her haul that had long since been claimed by the creatures of the deep.

Claimed.

No man, vampire or not, could lay claim to me; the only man once-standing, long since gone from the world, dead twice over. As if he'd ever cared to hold the claim at any rate. My death had been very much like my life; two men who had taken what they wanted without much thought for consequences, both leaving behind a helpless newborn. A by-blow twice over, that was I; I'd have it no other way. I was not meant to be anchored, not by lass nor land. I was a wayward son, but there would be no peace, for I'd never be done. I was damned to walk the earth eternal; alone and damned was I. With one less itch to scratch, thanks to the girl.

And if ever I'd found another not meant for a land-locked life, it was she. She'd taken to travel without complaint, and our short journey had been long for its travails. I had found my ... Not my equal, she would never be equal in the soft, bruised skin she wore now, but the nearest thing to it with a pulse to b. Could she have been my human counterpart?

I sensed the shift in the waters, even leagues beneath the surface. I was swimming even before I realized who it was, cutting through the waters at full speed. Demetri, the bastard, and his friends, were crawling across my ship like cockroaches, infesting my admittedly already invaded solitude. Not to mention the Cullen kiddies, but I barely recognized either of them as any kind of threat. I was too far, _they_ weretoo far, encroaching onto her 'til I could no longer sense the space between them. I only prayed, ironically comforted by the presence of the Cullen Children, that they were not there to harm her.

Through the waters I emerged, and they were there in their entirety, as if waiting, but I knew that they'd been caught. The boy was as I remembered, cursed eternally with the fresh look of youth, exaggerated angst tattooed across his face. The girl was no different, a tiny thing wrapped up in her child-like wonderment. I never thought much of vampires who did such a thing; vampires who call themselves men and bite children. Carlisle, perhaps, was different, acting out of desperation. Whether it was desperation for the boy's continued existence, or for companionship, we'll never know.

Demetri though, he looked smug; hands curled around the girl like the cold, heartless mockery of a lover's embrace. His eyes had lost the violent shade of crimson I had come to associate with the gluttonous Volturi, fading instead to a flat, listless black. I'd give him credit for his control and nothing else, standing as he was, wrapped around the bleeding girl. The boy was not faring as well, hands twitching at his side as he swallowed back mouthfuls of bubbling venom. _Singer_, the girl had once told me; she was his singer. His teeth were bared, razor sharp pearls wet and threatening; I could not be sure for whom the threat was meant, myself or the Volturi scum . Demetri paid it no mind as the Seer curled her child-like hand over the boy's forearm, tugging firmly.

It was simple from there, what happened next. Accusation and requital flew between us; Demetri spoke his part, and I mine. She heard them, chin held up even as he molested her before me, cold fingers tugging at the hem of her thread-bare shirt. But it was the things she _didn't_ hear, whispered into her hair on a level that left her out of the loop. _I_ heard, oh, I heard. The promise of defilement, the threat of touch; he could still smell me on her, _inside_ of her, where my venom had settled into the thin layers of her skin every place that I had licked her. The scent would last for days, possibly even a week for I had been thorough in my...pleasures. I was suddenly less irritated by the misfortune that was our coupling; I held no claim over the girl, but I had that, my mark on her skin. I could see the peek of thumb-print bruises painted on the sliver of hip bone I could see beneath her shirt. Her arse would have four to match, each cheek, where I had gripped her too tight.

"You're catering to the whims of a human," Demetri replied, haughty as ever. He suffered from delusions of power, when he was little more than a pawn. "Not enough to get you in trouble, but certainly enough to find disdainful. And this human in particular."

"It wasn't I who spilled our secrets," I reminded him, eying the Cullen in question. "Aro's beloved Cullen did that; I wished merely to return her to Carlisle, as it was his problem. Aro himself would do no less for Carlisle. "

"And yet you continued your plight even after Edward and Alice sought her? Surely you knew they were after her," Demetri murmured, nuzzling against the girl. He pressed more whispered vile promises into her hair, eying me with a smirk.

I was going to _kill_ him.

Or let the Cullen boy do it; he looked twice as wrathful as I felt, and considering my rage, it was quite the feat to manage.

"Carlisle is the patriarch of the Cullen Clan. If I were to return her to anyone, it would be him," I returned, choosing my words carefully. I doubted it went unnoticed, but I'd said it none-the-less.

The girl certainly noticed, eyes flickering to mine, bright and questioning.

"As it were, it hardly matters. Her audience has been promised to Aro. We've come to collect. You're welcome to join us, if you're interest-"

And that? That had been the final straw, the proverbial line in the sand. I would not be threatened aboard my own ship. I had seen the situation for what it was Demetri hadn't intended to be caught in his escape. He'd certainly pay for the grievance at Aro's hand. He'd intended to make up for the misstep by using the girl as leverage. By using me as leverage; as if he truly believed I would go, for the girl.

No, I wouldn't go, and be a willing prisoner aboard my own ship.

But that is not to say, I would not go at all.

It happened in a whirlwind, a non-fight, and a brush of fingertips. She was torn from me, and I from her, twin splashes starboard and haul. Even through the blur of blue and a pair of ginger vampires, I could see her, strapped to the Volturi bastard, like a sinking anchor.

Bubbles escaped her mouth, cascading upward as the water pressed down upon her, but she never closed her eyes, kept them open wide in the salty waters. As I ripped through my assailants, I saw it all, the choking panic behind the Mind Reader's eyes, as a Great White cut through the waters like a sharpened blade, made for speed in the deep blue. Open and exposed, it sank its razor teeth into her middle, even as the fingers of both Cullen protégés grabbed at its fins, scoring lines in its thick flesh.

Her bittersweet blood exploded like a mushroom cloud in the waters, rusty red fogging the crystal blue, but I could see the anguish on her face as Demetri dropped her, ripping into the water beast with tooth-and-claw. She seemed to float, suspended in time and water, crimson swirls curling up alongside the tendrils of hair.

The distraction earned me a blow to the jaw, knocking the teeth from my gums. I swallowed them with growl, but the damage was done. My mind refused to focus on the fight at hand, drifting to my sinking savior as I was attacked in tandem. Attacked and very nearly, taken down.

**BELLA**

**!#$%^&**

They say there is a level of pain that one can reach before their body kicks in and pumps them full of adrenalin. If I reached it, I didn't notice; too blinded by the gut-wrenching, spine-burning, all consuming pain swallowing me down into a watery consciousness.

Every single pore, every single cell of my body burned bright with its own pain. The shredded flesh of my stomach pumped rivets of smoky dark blood into the water, painting the scene before me pink and hazy. My life was pouring out of me; in the hands of a vampire, I'd die by a shark. I'd like to say it wasn't, but the irony was lost on me. Teeth still cut the same, I suppose, and I was dying, floating, dying, sinking, dying.

Or so I thought.

I could see him, even through the curling swirls of red and the stomach-lurching points of pain. Alistair, all rigorous fury, hair wild around him in a cloud of black as he lashed out, was tearing shreds from the gingers, and raising watery hell. He was the last thing I saw, dahlia eyes finding mine. He was pretty, pretty vicious, wild and wet, and just so beautiful it made me ache. Dying, it seemed, made me poetic. Perhaps it was the lack of air to my brain. But the last thing I saw was him, and then the world faded to black and _burning_.

There were touches I knew, like a muscle memory, raising the hairs on my neck and arms as his silk-soft fingers circled my wrist like the ghost-boy in the back of my mind use to, whispering 'be safe' in my ear before turning to dust before my eyes. No, but this hand was real, hauling me up and up and up. We broke the water's surface, and my lungs, they filled with air without any demand from me. I sputtered, and gasped; hitching, sobbing, blood-thick breaths trembling off my lips.

"Fuck," I sputtered, my eyelashes heavy with sea-salt and water, as Edward crushed me against him, his hand around my waist, fingers sinking into my shredded flesh. I had been handed from one predator to the next, like a casserole dish, where everyone, it seemed, was waiting for their turn to take a bite. Edward's eyes were saucer-wide and as black as the shark's had been, staring at me with a lip-curled smile smeared with red, and holding me just a little too tightly.

_He'd kill me,_ I thought, _or let me die_. To drink, drain, or let me die. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. I didn't particularly care at the moment about death or Edward. My mind was a skipping vinyl track playing _Alistair, Alistair, Alistair. _

"She's dying," Edward said, but his voice sounded as if it had been pressed through a cloud, soft and light, and almost not there at all. "She's dying! Alice! Alice...I can _hear_ her. We have to do something."

_They had to get Alistair_, I thought, head lolling on my shoulders. _Alistair, Alistair, Alistair. _

"She won't stop thinking his name," Edward murmured, quieter still, treading water beneath us. "She won't stop it. Stop it, Bella!"

Who...who was he talking to? Who was he talking about? Why was I so hot? Oh it was so hot, a burning beneath my flesh, scrawling like fire-ants under my skin. When had I closed my eyes? I struggled to push them open, struggled to see, to find him. _Alistair, Alistair, Alistair. _

"Stop it!" Edward growled, shaking me. My head rattled, but my body floated, limp and bleeding. "Stop it, Bella! He isn't going to save you. He doesn't care. He's already gone, gone to save himself."

"Alistair," I murmured, feeling something warm pour down my chin. I burned, I was burning, burning, oh God, _burning_. "Alistair!" gurgled, choking, this time, on his name.

"Stop saying his name!" Edward snarled, shaking me again. "Stop!"

"Edward," a sharp voice cut in, high and familiar. "That's enough, you have to stop. You're going to break her neck," something cool and wet slid over the side of my throat, followed by a hard gasp. "You bit her. You _bit_ her."

The waves rocked us, and Edwards hands gentled on my arms, hooking me around the waist, my head lolling back on his shoulder. "I had to...her blood..."

"We were underwater, you couldn't smell it," Alice argued. "She needs more venom. It isn't enough."

"It was in my mouth!" Edward snapped. "It was everywhere. Just...we need to get to the Volturi boat and finish the change."

"You are not in charge here, Cullen," Demetri's voice cut in. I was jostled, man-handled from one steel-cage of arms to another. "You've done your part and more. I cannot tell you whether Aro will be pleased by your...actions, here."

"Mine?" That haughty tone of superior arrogance had not changed over the years, I thought, and Edward made a disparaging noise. "I'm not... I have changed!"

Oh. He could hear me.

I really was dying.

` "And anyway, it was your actions that got her bitten to begin with. You couldn't fend off a single fucking shark because you were too busy doing some silly European underwater male posturing with the psychotic pirate! You think Aro's going to love that?"

"Enough of this," waves crashed into my face as Alice spoke, more anger in her voice thean I could ever recall. "She will die, and you will both be punished if we don't get her on the boat, and finish the change. Demetri, you'll have to do it. Edward can't handle it, and I've never dared human blood before."

"What?" Edward said, even as we began to move, a slow back-stroke, my body flush against the hulking mass that was Demetri. "No. I'll change her."

He said it as if it was his right. As if he had any right to me. God, I wished they'd never found me, wished they couldn't find me. But with things like this, there was no where to hide. You could only run, much like Alistair had been. I'd lead them right to him, maybe even to his death, and it was all Edward's fault. He couldn't just leave it the fuck alone, couldn't leave me alone. I wished so badly, in that moment, that Edward had never seen me, smelt me, heard me, anything. That I had never existed to him. That I remained a nothing in his eye.

"Bella..."

He hadn't changed at all. Where was Alistair? Alistair would save me from these fucktards. Alistair wouldn't argue over it, he'd just fucking bite me, and he'd like it, and he'd let me know. Alistair didn't play fucking games with my head. Didn't treat me like I would crumble in a strong breeze. Alistair...where was Alistair...

"He's gone!" Edward roared, as the world tipped and tilted. Demetri, I thought with vague clarity, must have laid me out across the deck. "He's either dead at the hand of the Cartelli Twins, or ran like he always does. He's a coward Bella. He's a coward and a liar and he would have left you soon enough."

It hurt, the fire, burning away almost every ounce of lucidity I could muster, but I had waited a long time to look upon the pretty face of the boy who broke me and not even death could stop me. Through the slits of my eyes, I peered up at him, for some words had to be said, not just thought. "Like you did," I murmured, tasting blood and salt on my own lips. "Like you left me, Edward? I wish you never saw me. I wish you never ever saw me. None of you."

"Bella..."

Even as he whispered my name, always such a fucking benediction on that pretty mouth of his, more pain exploded, searing through the scar-less wrist, and up my arm until I choked on it, blood sputtering from my lips.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Demetri?" Edward snarled, and I caught glimpse of my own hand in the Volturi's mouth before my eyes fell closed again, too heavy to keep open any more. His tongue was cold against the burn, but not cold enough. "I said I would change her."

"And I said you wouldn't, Cullen," Demetri growled, his wide form blocking out the light I could see behind the thin layer of my lids. "You are wasting time boy. You're arrogance will get her killed," he finished, biting me again, just under the chin, that soft underbelly of my throat.

I couldn't see, but I could feel the foot steps against the deck beneath me, each one sending a new wave of shock-pain-shock through my body. "Edward, don't," Alice hissed, and I could almost imagine her tiny hand curling itself around his arm. "You do it, and she dies. Let him change her."

"She was mine," Edward murmured. "Mine to change."

_Not yours_, I cried out in my mind, but even my thoughts sounded pained. They were changing me, turning me, making me something else, and for the first time in for what seemed like forever but was only a few moments, I felt something other than pain.

Fear.

The Volturi had me, and I was changing. What did that mean to me? What were my options? Was I to be returned to the Cullens as Alistair had once planned, or would I be another Volturi blood-spawn, who fell in line and didn't know any better? Would I know any better? The burn blazed through me, charring me to ash, and I thought that if I only knew pain, what would I know when I woke again? Who the hell would I be, when the venom was done stripping me of everything? Alistair, I thought, I needed him here, I needed him with me. He knew me. He knew me better in five days than any of the Cullens ever did. Alistair. I needed Alistair.

And _that_ was the very last thing I thought, before I thought no more.

**EDWARD**

**(*gasp* I know.)**

How long had I craved to hear her? To unlock the perpetually impenetrable fortress that was Bella Swan's mind? How long had I yearned to understand the fantastical way she thought? What things flickered through her mind as her mouth hardened and her eyes narrowed and she dug her heels into the dirt so deep no man could move her, not even I. It felt like forever, and I certainly knew forever.

And now I could; now it was all laid out bare for my plucking, each thought, each tiny passing notion. Laid out bare, I thought again, as I looked upon her broken body, arranged tastefully on an altar, and sheathed in a scanty dress of luminescent white silk. She looked like an Angel, fallen and beautiful. Already, the change had begun to alter her; her hair hung only slightly longer, in perfect full, weighty, waves. The gaunt of her cheekbones had rounded, and the bow of her lips had swelled. She wasn't any more beautiful than she had always been to me; only more refined, a classic take on what was already wonderful. I could still see my mark on her neck where my teeth had broken her skin, the sound of her flesh popping echoed beneath the water.

Her blood had been everything I expected; a bitter sweet cacophony of flavor and sin. That I oughtn't to have the chance to taste it made it all the more delicious. The sweetest fruits, as they say, are often the most forbidden. But she had been dying, right there in the water before me. Her blood, diluted and salty, was all around me, skating across my skin, and if I could not smell it, I could see it, I could _feel_ it. How could I not? How could I not snap at the chance to sink my teeth into her and perhaps be her savior again?

All I ever really wanted was to save her. From myself. From herself. From the world.

And yet sitting here on the steps of her altar, made especially for my Bella at Aro's expense and delight, I could not help but wonder if I had made a mistake. The sheer and utter relish I saw through third-party minds, at which Aro welcomed Bella frightened me, and too, I had yet to see Alice since our arrival. He would not see me, nor could I see her, and I knew well enough to know the move was calculated.

We were being herded blindly, had been from the very beginning. Whatever it was that he had planned, we were not intended to know. Each attendant that so dutifully visited, inquiring to my every possible need, knew nothing, and I did not put it past Aro to know my reluctance to leave Bella's side as she changed.

"Young Master Cullen," a fair-faced woman approached me, heart thumping in her chest. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Can you please inform your Master that I would care for a word with him before Bella wakes," I replied, as I had since first we had been left here. "I realize that he is an important man, but I was under the assumption that I was a guest here. I find it rather rude to be ignored." I had not intended to, but my words were bit off with a quiet growl as my fists clenched at my sides where I loomed over Bella. "Well?"

"I..." she began, lashes fluttering against her face, fear coloring her cheeks. "I will have him informed, Master Cullen. Is there anything else?"

"Yes actually," I said suddenly, turning to look back at the young woman. "Have you seen my sister? It's not like her to go so long without intruding upon my solitude, and I grow worried," I explained with every ounce of fraternal expression I could muster. I wasn't worried for Alice, she fended well for herself. I only wondered where she was being kept, and how she fared.

"I have not heard word of your sister," the girl replied uneasily. I saw the flashes of horror flitter across her consciousness. They were almost as brutal with Vampires here, as they were with humans, and the girl, bless her, she worried for my sister, a woman, a vampire, she never knew. "Shall I inquire?"

"If you would be so kind," I said in reply.

"As you wish, Master Cullen," she said, suddenly frowning. "If it is permitted, I shall carry word of your worry."

It broke my heart to know, because I knew in that instant, and perhaps before, that Bella would not be leaving with me. I had no claim, not even as Sire, for if I had been the first to bite, it had been but a poison. Even I could not deny that it was Demetri's venom that turned her. She was of Volturi blood now, and one of their own, a fact I knew Aro would slaughter me on sight if I dared to question the rights of a blood bond. She was Demetri's to be dealt with, his to control until she could control herself, as much as I loathed it.

They would ruin her. Make a monster of her masterpiece.

If day three of her change dawned bright, I did not know it, deep within the Volturi dungeons. Her heart still beat, but her chest had long since ceased to rise. I scrubbed my hand over my face, not tired, never tired, but endlessly weary. Bella remained still as stone, her soft, pale skin now cold and hard as granite. Her eye lashes fluttered, fingers twitching, but I had long since lost the sound of her mind as she died and was reborn.

"Master Cullen," the pale blonde said quietly from the door way. "I've a message for you."

"You've been told to pass no messages," I replied, catching the frightened thought as slipped across her mind. "And yet here you are."

"My...number is up," she said quietly. "They intend me for your friend, I think," she finished, nodding towards Bella.

She was so nonchalant, her fear there but not boldly. "You're surprisingly calm, about all of this, really."

"What am I going to do?" She said with a shrug, dropping a thin envelope into my hand. "I can't run or hide. I can't fight. I had hoped to prove my worth, and become an Immortal. I believe Aro thought me beautiful enough for it," she said with a smile. "But a bed-warmer is only so effective when the body remains warm. And...this, whatever your sister wrote, I can only hope it gets your friend, the Lady Swan, out of here sooner. Preferably before they serve me up on the good china."

The snarky comment startled a laugh out of me, and maybe some tiny pain in my chest. This human girl was much like Bella had once been, calm and confident, and strong in the face of danger. My Bella was none of those things now. "What's your name?"

"Astrid," she replied, giving no further nomenclature. "If that is all, Master Cullen."

I lifted the slim envelope in my hand, fingers tracing along its edges. I could see Alice scrawling across the cream-colored paper in the back of Astrid's mind. "Thank you, Astrid. If it is any help, I do not wish Bella to harm any human, and I will do what I can to remind her that once upon a time, she was of a mutual want."

She flashed another smile, this one smaller, and less careful, eyes tripping over to Bella, who I imagined would wake at any time. A new Bella, reborn in terror. I wondered at the consequences of her death; would they affect her as Alice and Rosalie's had?

Returning to my seat at her side, I sliced through the envelope with the sharp of my nail. The familiarity of Alice's neat script was surprisingly heartening, even if the words felt grave.

_Edward, _

_ By now you know they've separated us for a reason. Aro has no intentions of releasing Bella into our custody, especially after seeing her in my Eye after her change. She's magnificent, isn't she? I can barely See her, but I Saw enough to know that she will be trouble for the Volturi, and Aro won't risk having her anywhere but at his side, especially with her current affiliation with Alistair, Volturi's number one persona-non-grata. _

_ You need to find him. Beyond that, I cannot see, and I believe it has everything to do with Bella, but you need to find him Edward. This evening, when they bring Bella into feed, you need to leave. Feign disgust if you must, but find him. You can reach him in a small flat above the Viticelli Bros. Clock Shop just outside Volterra as the sun rises tomorrow morning. Go there, Edward. _

_ -Alice _

When at last she woke, it was with as rapid a procession as is expected. She curled up off the altar, eyes a violent red, and confusion etched into her ridiculously perfect face. She turned to me, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. "You."

"You remember me."

"...I remember what you did to me," she said at last. "I...where is he?"

Cringing inwardly, I backed away from her with careful ease. "Who, Bella?" I asked, feigning aloofness. For as long as I could still hear into her mind, it had been an echo of Alistair. I knew to expect this, though it rankled me.

"You know who, you bombastic fuckwit," she snapped, throwing her legs over the edge of the altar and dropping barefoot down to the floor. She swallowed against what I knew was the burn. "You took him...me. You took _me_ from him. Give me back," she said, striding forward with all the single-mindedness of a newborn. "Give me back to him."

"Ah," a dated voice echoed at the doorway. "Our house darling has awakened. Isabella, how do you feel?"

Her eyes snapped to Aro, who had deigned to grace us with his presence at last. He walked around us, giving us a wide berth.

"Who the hell are you?" Bella growled, standing her ground. "I want Alistair."

"Oh that won't be happening," Aro chuckled, his hands cupped together before him, chin lifted regally. "Aren't you thirsty darling?"

Bella's flinch was vicious, nose twitching as the gentle sound of a thrumming heart-beat grew closer. Barely a moment passed, when at the door way stood two guards and a dark-haired man, angular and towering. The resemblance to Alistair did not go unnoticed, by neither Bella or myself.

She licked her lips, the pull too great, as they cut a path across the frightened man's forearm. His blood pooled immediately into his palms, only to drip to the floor. Her eyes tracked the path, the _drip, drip, drip_, as it pooled in a puddle of red at the pleading man's feet.

I had to give her credit. She lasted longer than I would have expected, holding out for approximately thirty seconds before pounding forward. The squelching sound of torn flesh sounded through out the gilded dungeon, as she tore into him with no finesse. Blood soaked into her white gown in wide, spreading sanguine circles.

It was a thing of beauty, to watch her like this, vicious and feral. It was beyond beauty, terrifyingly real and alarmingly arousing, this Bella, painted in blood. I felt the growl curl out of my throat unbidden, and prickled when Aro dared to laugh at me for it. Ah but she was pretty like this, and it brought out the beast in me.

But the other part of me, the distinctly human part, recoiled in revulsion. This was never what Bella wished for. She had once dreamed of the Cullen way, and I knew that at Aro's hands, it would never be so. She bled the man dry, still curled over his desecrated Aro crouched, hand cupping her jaw boldly. He couldn't read her, and though I expected this to irritate him, it didn't. He was _ecstatic_.

"So very good, darling Bella," he murmured, looking her dead in the eye. "You will be a diamond among gems, you know. Do you want more? A girl perhaps. I find they taste sweeter. Anything you want, Isabella, _I_ can give you. I have the power to give you anything child, _my_ child."

A smile curled up at her lips, even as she spat a mouthful of thick, half-coagulated blood in his face. He recoiled, stumbling back suddenly, hand wiping at the blood. "I remember you," she hissed, springing upward. "Alistair, he spoke of you. He _hated_ you. I'm not your child. Where is Alistair?"

"Oh he's gone," Aro replied, more snidely. "As he always is. Did you think he'd brave the Volturi for you? I think not. That coward has been running for years."

Again, she struck out faster than Aro had expected, if he expected a blow at all, her finger slicing through the thin skin of his pale cheek. "You will give me back to him," she demanded, even as his guard curled their hands over her arms. She lashed out again, tossing them aside with clumsy pushes and kicks. "Give me back to him!"

"Get another body in here!" Aro called out. "Feed her 'til she's sated and too full to fight. I don't want her escaping. Young Master Cullen," Aro said, turning to me, his face oozing venom down his neck. "Will you be staying with your Bella?"

I realized it was my moment of escape as I schooled my features to disgust. "That thing is not my Bella. You know how my family feels, Aro. Would you let her come into my company, I would gladly relieve you of her burden and train her in the Cullen ways."

"You and I both know that won't be happening," Aro said with a dark laugh. "She is, by right, Bella Volturi."

"Then you may have at her," I said, as haughty as possible. "I've no wish to affiliate myself beyond what is necessary to beasts."

"You flatterer," Aro tossed back, throwing his head back with a laugh. "To each his own. Though I am, perhaps, a little disappointed you turned out to be so fickle. I thought you were quite and well in love with this girl?"

"Not this girl," I replied, watching Bella sink her teeth into a short, dark skinned woman. "No. I loved Bella Swan."

"Then so be it," Aro said with a nonchalant shrug. "Give my regards to Carlisle?"

"As you wish," I replied, "Master Aro."

**A/N ** So, I really didn't want to do the Edward POV, and he won't be a regular, I promise, but I needed something, and that ended up being it. It's what kicked my but into gear and got me through the chapter, so I guess that ginger fuck is good for something.

A/N #2 Also! Guess what? Hit and Run grabbed two nominees, and Once Bitten, Twice Shy scrapped up a third over at if I didn't win, because I forgot I was nominated, and didn't tell any one to vote for me, Hit and Run was nominated for **Best Overall, which makes me so happy I could pee. I can't help but bask in my non-winning, but nominated glory. MMkay? Don't judge. **


	21. Chapter 21

**Hit and Run Chapter** 21 plus added bonus excerpt

**Author**: lifelesslyndsey

**Summary** : After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life.

**Pairing**: Bella and Alistair

**Warning**: M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know. Minor alcohol/medication use.

**Word** **Count**: It's a bit of a baby at 2.5k, but there is an extra snippet at the bottom to make up for it.

**Beta**: MsEerieChastain, She gives good bj's. Beta Jobs, people. You perverts. (*_Beta note – I'm not too shabby at the other kind too, if I say so myself_*)

**Disclaimer**: I own nearly nothing; not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!

**A/N** READ ME! I'M IMPORTANT: So, this chapter is kind of tiny, and it's all Alistair, which I think we missed. But! There is something very important going on at the end of this chapter. It is ****drum role**** an excerpt from a one-shot called 'BRIG', a story that entails Alistair's change from Pirate to Vampire and exactly what he did to anger Aro way back when. This is only an excerpt. You can find the full story in the PDF at the Fandom Gives Back Autism Awareness page (google search "Fandom Gives Back Autism", first link for directions). There is a minimum donation of $5 which I endeavor you to donate, and as this is a rated M, you are all 18+, yes? Over 600 people have this story on their faves; if every one of you donated $5, we could raise $3,000 dollars! Wishful thinking, I am sure, but I would love to see some of you throwing down for a good cause and getting Alistair's Change (along with a whole bunch of other awesome stories) in return!

ALISTAIR

!#$%&

The shop-keep was bound safely in the cellar as the sun began to rise, the sky exploding in shades of pink like candy-floss clouds. I was wet, bloody, and slightly battered, but my excessive feeding had seemed to prove me well, for I had it in me to fight harder, faster, longer, and had already long since begun to heal.

I could see the gates of Volterra from the kitchen window and the double-guard that stood watch at its doors, their hearts beating lazily in their chests as they waved cars by through the wrought-iron gates. From the bedroom window, I could see Aro's tower, tall, proud and pristine, it's elaborately carved stone gargoyles staring down from their perches. Deep beneath those parapets pieces was she, the girl, freshly awoken if my estimations were correct.

Bella.

I hoped she was giving them hell; she had certainly given me as much.

I snarled, softly and to myself as I sensed the fast approach of the Reader. I hadn't expected him, especially alone. I suspected that Demetri did not want to search for me; it was as if they did not want me anywhere near Bella.

All the more reason I would find myself doing the very opposite, I should think.

I let him as far as the bedroom door before acknowledging his presence. "You," I said, all snarls and growls. "What do you want?"

"We have to get her out of there." I'd give him points for wasting none of my time with his usual bout of pretty words. "They'll turn her into a monster. She's-," his face hardened mid-sentence as our eyes were drawn to the stairwell.

"You were followed," I accused, eyes hardening. The smell of human filled the air, tainted by the too-familiar scent of Volturi.

The boy shook his head minutely. "Not with intention," he said solemnly. "It's one of the servants. She helped me get word to Alice."

"That does not mean she can be trusted, foolish boy," I snarled, even as a lilting soprano echoed out in the empty house.

"Hello?" The girl called. "It's...Astrid. Alice sent me."

The boy was down the stairs in a flash and there was little I could do but follow. I sensed no others, save for the bound shop-keep, and lingering passers-by wading through the rainy streets.

"Astrid," Edward greeted, and I said nothing. "Alice had a vision?"

"They've moved the Lady Bella," Astrid said in way of reply. "They've taken her beneath ground, to the underbelly of the city of Volterra. I've only been there once; most humans are not taken there. But it's...heavily guarded. More I cannot describe."

"But you have seen it?" Edward asked, pushing forward. His familiarity with humans baffled me, but he showed no sign of struggle in the servant girl's presence. "Think on it. Show me."

"Not from outside, I haven't. But, I was there once, on the ground level. Inside an old building..." Astrid closed her eyes; whatever the boy saw, I was not privy to. His face contorted, awe and wonder and fear flashing across his hard features.

"They've taken her deep, Alistair, and they're keeping her...sated. I watched her feed twice only hours ago and I do seriously doubt that they've kept her wanting. They'll use her blood lust as her distraction."

"And he'll use her as my bait," I snarled, fingers clenching. "She is a prize to him on merit alone I am sure, but if she showed any inclination as to being important to me, or I to her, he would hold back to it against me. It is like he knows you've come for me and the girl here," I pointed to Astrid who shrank back where she stood, "is part of the plan to lure me."

"If she is," Edward acceded, defending the girl, "she was unaware of it. She is but a pawn."

I knew this to be true, but it should not have mattered. It was a testament to how I had come to change in the face of Bella Swan that I let the girl live. "Even so," I conceded, "she is a Volturi pawn. By her being here, I believe it is safe to assume that the girl did not...forget me, during her change."

At this, the Reader balked, a bitter snort escaping him. "Unlikely as you were all she thought about while burning, and she demanded, several time so, that we return her unto you, when she woke. Her words, Alistair, were '_give me back to him'_. Not '_take me back'_, but _'give me back'_. I believe she is under the assumption that she belongs to you."

"Then let her believe it," I responded coolly, challenge written in every word and while he did not protest, the flinch was there, in the flicker of his weak, amber eyes. The girl was mine, and he would not attest to the fact.

Mine.

"You don't even love her," the Cullen boy said with a tired, broken laugh. "I can see as much; you don't love her."

To that, I could say nothing. It was true enough, I didn't love her. She'd been a human, weak and tainted when I'd known her. But I had promised her that I would not let the Volturi scum have her, and a pirate makes no promises he does not intend to keep; a pirate made few promises at all. "We must need find her before they destroy any Bella left within her," I said instead.

"I don't know..." Astrid cut in, biting her tongue at once. Aro had her well trained. "I've heard speak of her power. They call it a shield. Aro said she is un-findable."

"Show me," Edward all but demanded, rounding on her. "Please," he added, always with the angst-filled propriety. Again, I was tossed from the loop, as the Reader drew back from the girl to look at me.

"You can't," he said, sighing as petulantly as could be expected from the perpetual teen. I pitied Carlisle for his dear heart and his clan of children. "She's in deep, even a tracker won't find her. Her gift-."

"I can find her," I hissed vehemently. "No matter where she is, or what guard lay before her, I can find her!"

"You don't understand," Edward, the pissy mind-reader said, lips pulled back into a snarl. "She can't be found by anyone. Her shield...she's incredible. She can't be heard, scented, or seen for Christ sakes, unless she chooses to be. She cannot be tracked, not by you, not by anyone."

"No, _you_ don't understand!" I snarled, shoving the child back. He stumbled beneath the force of my push, slapping hard against the brick wall. "I can find her. I need not a scent or a picture in my mind to find her. Just tell me what you know? What did you see in the servant girl's mind?"

"She's with lesser guard. Faces I cannot recognize by name amongst the minds here. Strong men and women, smart enough to keep her back. She's proven to be tricky; she can make herself invisible. From what," the boy pauses, face pulled into a grimace. "From what I understand, as long as they are keeping her sedated by over-feeding she won't be inclined to run without reason. She's working off baser needs. She wants blood and...well. She wants you."

"They'll turn her into a monster," I growled. "She'll be of no use to them."

"They're willing to risk it," the little girl chimed. "Alice told me Aro saw it in her mind that there was a chance she'd prevail. Lady Bella has been known to prove stronger than expected."

That was true; I had seen it, time and again. She was stronger than any man or vampire I'd come across in my man years. "Tell me of the building, what do you know?"

"Underground, of course," Edward replied, biting into his lip. He looked like a child and it grated at his nerves that I thought so; loudly and specifically in English. But he was nigh past a century and I had no time for infants. "I'm thinking! It's hard to grasp solid facts from human minds. No offense, Astrid."

"Give me something! What can you see? She must have seen something!" I snarled, my finger digging into his collar bone till the shimmering flesh pops beneath my sharp nail, and I sink my thumb into his muscle, dark blood oozing and bubbling from the wound.

His face contorts with pain, as he hisses, silveresque venom sputtering from his lips. "A church! I saw a small church out the window of wherever Astrid saw Bella. There was a broken stain glass window of a rose and a raven, and the belfry was half crumbled." I watched the boy's eyes shutter to a close as he struggled to find words to his memories.

I let the boy loose, caring naught as he hissed, running venom over his shoulder wounds. A window with a rose and a raven; I let myself picture it, feeling the warm tug in my chest like a compass. It would have to be enough. "We go north."

"How do you know?" Edward asked, head cocked so the light caught his immaculate, untested skin. A green lad if I ever saw one, but with his gift he'd do well enough in a fight, I hoped. "How can you be sure?"

I faltered, if only for a moment, eyes flashing to Edward. "My tracking is not limited to the living or un-living. I can find anything. Whether it be vegetable, mineral, or animal, it is not safe from me. I needn't a clear picture in my head, only the desire to find and I will be led," I said, letting a breath of hot, acrid air escape my lungs. My secret gone, for her, I thought. I'd tell the world, if only to have her back. But she was the only thing I couldn't sense and a strange part of me felt only pride for it. If one could hide from me, one could hide from the world. But it wouldn't stop me from finding what was mine.

The boy snarled, but I shot him a look of pure loathing. He was a miniscule whelp, a thorn in my side that mattered little as I no longer had any need of him. "Hiss and spit all you want, child, but you are a kitten to my lion and I will chew you up and spit you out."

He snapped, looking all the ready to crouch and pounce. "What makes you even think you matter?"

I grinned at him, flashing my own teeth, far older and sharper then his. "Something she said to me once," I said, mouth curling up into a dangerous smirk. I let myself see it, that last day with her. She was sitting on the couch, a decidedly disheveled, fucked-out mess, smelling of my come, and bearing my marks upon her naked body. She was smiling as she spoke, cinnamon eyes alight with fire. _'I'd pick you over them any day.'_ It was a moment, seven words, I'd keep close to my heart for it was the day I was sure I could someday love her.

"That..." the boy swallowed, "That doesn't mean anything."

"Oh but it does. Why deny it, you've said it...seen it yourself, even. She believes she belongs to me, and I am happy to accommodate," I sneered, letting myself remember those hours prior where she'd been speared upon my cock, back arching as I fucked into her with ruthless abandon; it felt so vivid in my mind, the way her body took it, wrapped around me, tight and hot and trembling. The way she'd nigh begged for it, spread herself open to me like a galley whore. "I made her a promise I intend to keep. I will fight for her; I will lay slaughter to armies far more massive then you, boy. I will kill my own kind in cold blooded murder, and I will _enjoy_ it. I will kill you, should you get in my way, without a blink of an eye. I will stop at nothing until she is free from her binds. Can you say the same?"

"You wouldn't," Edward dared, but his eyes betrayed him.

"He would," the girl chimed. "Edward...Alice said..."

The boy's huff was exasperated and broken. "Is it not her choice?" He cried out, throwing his hands up with a wince. "Shouldn't she have a say in it?"

I barely gave his words a second thought before my reply fell from my tongue, sharp and lilting. "No," I said, drawing myself tall, shoulders squared like any decent pirate. "Because she is _mine_. There isn't a force in this world that could keep her from me, not life nor death. I am a vampire, yes, and have been one for many a year, but first and bloody foremost I am a _Pirate_. I will pillage, plunder, and leave behind wreckage so foul your Gods will cry the blood of my victims to take what I want. I will fight for what is mine, _take_ what is mine, and _keep_ what is mine; no man in this world will pry her from my frigid grasp. It is a pity that you cannot say the same, for the spoils you've so nobly cast aside have become mine to keep and there is nothing in the world you can do about it." I spit a mouthful of venom at his feet, and locked my jaw. "So buck up, boy, you can either tag along, or fuck off and die for all I care. I'm going to save the lass; you're either with me, or against me."

"And if I'm against you?" Edward hedged, eyes flickering. "What if I'm against you?"

"I kill you where you stand."

TBC

**A/N **And now for that excerpt...

A storm was brewin', that much I could tell from my prison, knocking my beloved ship about on crashing waves. The heavy, thunking clunk of boots against the deck echoed above me, along with the patter of rain. I could hear garbled orders being called out over the wind, but the words were carried across the sea. It was the blood-curdling shriek that warned me, the thundering stomps shaking the planks above me as the crew seemed to scurry blindly and in every direction. A thin beam of light played from the trap door, flooding my depths of my ship along with the sounds of death.

A man took the stairs one-by-one, calm as ever, as he made his way to me, every motion as graceful as the ocean itself. "I've found another one!" he called out over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving me. "Why don't you join your crew for the party, Mr…"

"Alistair," I growled, my voice brittle as chalk from ill-use. "_Captain_ Alistair Xavius Webb, and those men are no crew of mine."

The man looked down at me, the shaft of light catching on his pale face to reveal a pair of violent red irises staring back at me. I did not gasp, or flinch, or whimper, but of surety, my heart beat faster in the face of danger. I had heard tales, for every pirate had, of the red-eyed demon that emerged from the waters, slaughtering across the seven seas. Stories meant to scare children, not hardened men such as I. But scared I was, in that moment, caught beneath the devil's glare.

"This be your ship, then?" he asked, his gaze never wavering, his voice oddly light and musical, in contrast to his devilish appearance. I lifted my chin, defiant unto my end for sure, and he smiled. "Join me, Captain Webb, and see just how my men take offense to mutiny."

He struck my bindings with my bare fist, tearing them from the post with a flick of the wrists. The cuffs still chafed at my ankles and wrists as the chains rattled behind me against each stair I ascended. It was dark, night having long since fallen on the seas, when I emerged from the brig. The men I once called my own cried out in an orchestra of horror and pain as these things that dared to call themselves men drained them of every drop of red that pumped in their veins.

I held my head up high, following as Death himself cut a path through the dead. "Hear me!" he called out, coming to stand behind the helm, staring down upon the brutal chaos. "Hear me, brothers! Hear me, men! It has been brought to my attention that we have boarded a ship of mutiny! That which stands before you, this man," he said, forcing me forward with an iron-cold hand at the small of my back, "is Captain Alistair Xavius Webb, and for your crimes against him, he shall have the pleasure of dying last. Brothers, oh my brothers, show these humans what we think of men who turn against their own."

If I had thought it brutal before, the chaos that reined henceforth was nothing short of the darkest nightmares. Blood seeped across the sun-washed wood of the deck in a puddle, dark at the edges as it thickened and dried. The screams were sharper, though not as sharp as the teeth that I watched cutting into the flesh of the men who betrayed me. I beheld their crumpled faces, torn in agony, as they struggled fruitlessly against their captors, and watched them die one-by-one, a sick heat churning in my empty stomach. They had taken the time to save my second-in-command, the master of my mutiny, Cameron Lorimer, for the end; the lot of them, four in total, ripped into him even as he begged, his voice bloody and wet.

"Captain Webb," the beast beside me said. "Do you feel avenged?"

"You speak as if I asked for this," I snarled, my eyes skimming the sea of dead that blanketed what had once been my ship. "My vengeance can only be found in death. If you wish me to find it, then kill me as you planned."

**A/N **Hit and Run can be read without the extra Alistair-Fic. To be honest, I wasn't sure how to work it in to the story, so it was actually never going to be written But, if you *want* to know how he got changed, donate with Alex's Lemonade Stand. For the rest of this, Google search 'Fandom Gives back Autism' for more instructions on how you can get the pdf of this and so much more! Do it, you know you want to!


	22. Chapter 22

**Hit and Run**

**Author : Lifeless Lyndsey**

**Summary : After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life**.

**Pairing: Bella and Alistair**

**Warning: M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know.**

**Word Count: 2,150**

**Disclaimer: I own nearly nothing , not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!**

A/N Hey there. It's been a while. Life, you know? But I am settled now, and the muse is trickling back in. Let me tell you, I have just had nothing for this story. So horrible. But I have ideas again, plots and schemes. Things are happening. This chapter is small, and sadly not so fantastic as a come-back chapter should be, but to make up for it, **I am going to post a one-shot time stamp fic of Alistairs Change called BRIG, so when you're done reading this, you should read that! **It's pretty nifty. Explains how Alistair was change, what he did for many of those year, and what exactly is Aro's problem with him. Hope you like it! I'm already working on the next chapter. It has been a while , so you might want to read the last chapter again. This is all in Bella POV.

**Bella**

It was _fire_.

Sure I burned; burned so hot I thought I was ash, but that wasn't what I meant. It was like fire in the _mind_; everything blazed bright and hot, spreading wild and all together to much. See all, smell all, taste,touch,hear...it was just to fucking _much_. Like a constant ache that didn't hurt at all; it niggled in the back of my mind, ever present, a burn that left no mark. My body ached, and my mind ached, and strangely, all I could think of was Alistair.

Alistair.

Bastard.

Alistair.

Where _was_ he? I was hard-pressed to be bothered to remember a time without him, even though I knew in reality we had five days in my life together. But from here, on the other side of the curtain of death, those five days were lifetime enough to change me.

Every sound, every scent, every single color with a name, and several that did not, they assaulted me, like a taser to the brain; one-hundred-thousand tiny bolts of lightning firing off across my brain. The others, there were always others -so alike but never Alistair- they came and spoke _to_ me and talked _at_ me. Tripped up words meant to calm and sooth and placate, served with side of blood; much like you'd bride a kid with candy.

Familiar faces too, like the first boy. That first boy; the one I never wanted to see again. Edward. Others came, others like him with pretty golden eyes and sad smiles. Just two, but they came. The Doctor and the _beast_.

"You don't need to be afraid of me," not the Doctor, but the other vampire said. "I won't hurt you." He smiled then, light curls curtaining his face, but there was something familiar, _ominous_ and familiar about the way his teeth flashed when they caught the light.

And most peculiarly, he made me think of birthday cake and despair.

But still I laughed; I didn't think he'd hurt me. "Aro would kill you," I replied, crushing one of the long-stemmed pristine red rose in my palm with spiteful pleasure. Aro sent them, every day, and I spent most my time plucking the silky little petals off one by one while glaring at any one in my company, current persons not excluded. Aro; I didn't like him either, nor any one he himself deemed trustworthy. I knew not to; Alistair had taught me as much. "You're very familiar. I feel like we've met before. I...I'm not sure where I know you from, but I know that we've met."

The man nodded, the skin of his neck stretching with the movement, silvery scars playing in the light across his throat. "Yes, I aught to be. I'm Jasper Cullen," he explained. "Edwards brother."

Edward; just the name brought a snarl to my lips. But even through the mist, I could almost remember Jasper. Snapping, snarling teeth, and so much blood. Blood and birthday cake, followed by a devastation so deep it still seemed to haunt me. "You...you tried to kill me," I hissed, feeling my shoulders tense, drawing them into me.

Jasper faltered, fingertips playing over a fallen petal. He looked up, his gold eyes wide. "I did," he said baldly. "You were bleeding; we _all_ wanted you. I though, I wanted you seven times over. I couldn't resist...the blood...surely you understand?"

I felt myself shiver, a tendril of fear racing up my spine and then...then I was gone, if only for a moment, hiding myself in plain sight.

"They told me of your gift," Jasper replied, sounding to amused for my short-temper. "I should think it's very well suited to you Bella. You always did want to melt away into the background."

"I think it has more to do with me not wanting to be found," I said, at his side. He startled, lips curling back for a moment before he barked out a laugh.

Shaking his sun-stained curls, he grinned. "It's hard to scare a vampire. I can see why Aro covets your gift. I couldn't see, nor smell, nor hear you. It was as if you weren't hear at all."

0

I growled, pouting. "He covets a lot more then my gifts; I'm fairly sure he thinks I'm stupid. So you're my keeper then? I can hear them, outside the door. A guard of what? Five, six? Ready for my escape? And you?" I remembered this one, if only vaguely. We had spoken little, in the time before. I had a sense that I wasn't allowed; that he hadn't permitted it.

Jasper frowned, head cocked to the side like a confused puppy. "I believe it was Alice's intention that I come to comfort you," he replied simply. He was calm here, more calm then any other and I did not care for it. I liked the subtle taste of fear in the air, as much as any vampire I supposed. But this one, this Cullen, he did not fear me, nor did I think he had any reason to.

"If your not hear to guard me will you help me escape?" I asked lightly, refusing any tendril of hope to form in me. It would not do to become expectant, at any rate.

His gaze faltered, gold eyes flickering to the door. "He has my wife," he replied with false ease. "Anything we do, she will see and he will know. I...did not know the circumstances of Edward and Alice's visit, but when they did not return..."

"You came after them," I replied, understanding. "And he's using you against her, so you'll keep me calm." I sighed, earning to muster up an iota of anger. "Well, I had wondered why I wasn't as violent today as yesterday. You'll stay here, then? Keep me in your bubble?"

"He has my Alice," Jasper replied quietly. "I won't do you any harm, really I'm trying to help. I...I don't know what he has planned, but Bella...you _are_ a newborn. You're not ready for the world. You have to be acclimated-"

"By flooding me with blood?" I asked, looking up at him from my side of the room. I wanted to be mad, I wanted it. I grabbed the vase from the sideboard, and smashed it to the floor, pale pink ceramic shards scattering across the marble tile. "They just won't stop," I said, with a hysterical laugh. "They're keeping me sated, not teaching me, Jasper, you and I both know that. I remember enough to know...to know that if I'm near a human I will rip them apart."

"Yes," Jasper said, with a shudder. "My...sire...did something very similar. It's a tactic to gain control of young Vampires; to ensure there loyalty. Does Aro sit with you for your feedings?"

"He's been bringing the..._meals_ himself, recently," I admitted quietly, uneasy at the idea of being subconsciously conditioned for anything.

Jasper nodded. "He wants you to associate the...pleasure derived from feeding with him. Maria did something similar; indulging us when we served her needs so that we'd strive to please her. It's...very effective. You're lucid now, but I imagine when Aro is here..."

"I lose myself to the blood lust," I finished, already knowing it to be true. "Fuck. I...how do I even disassociate myself from that?"

Jasper shrugged. "It's like Pavlovas theory. You see him, and you drool. You have to...to learn how to recognize when he blood lust is no longer thirst, but gluttony. When you're full, too full, you're slower. Sluggish even."

"There's no hope for running," I said with a sigh, sinking back against the curved brick wall. It was cool to the touch, and windowless. Didn't take a brain-surgeon to figure out I was underground. "What am I going to do?"

"Well," he said slowly, eying me in a way that seemed familiar if vague. "You're going to fight it. You're a fighter, Bella, don't forget that."

Was I a fighter, I wondered?

I hadn't the opportunity to question myself any further. As if Aro had heard (or perhaps seen, as was the more plausible truth) Jasper's heartening words, he pushed through the arched double doors, his sweeping, dark red robes billowing out behind him, and behind that, a round-faced red-headed woman, who's blue eyes seemed resigned to her death. Behind her was a blonde, and behind her,a copper skinned boy with dark hair, who's face pushed at the veil between my new self, and old.

A three-course meal then.

The red-head went first, quick and dirty, bleeding more on my shirt then into my mouth. I hadn't really grasped the bite-and-suck concept yet, though Aro assured me in condensing coo's that it would come to me in time.

"You think you can fight this?" He said, shoving the whimpering crying blonde into my arms while Jasper watched on, eyes as black as I once drank my coffee. "You think she can fight this, Major? This is nature as it should be!"

She was warm against my skin, and the smell of her...it was in me, all around me. I felt the rush of venom flood my mouth, dripping in pearly lines at the corners of my mouth as I squeezed her so hard, so desperately, I felt her bones crush to dust beneath my force.

She cried out, a sharp, piercing soprano I wanted so badly to stifle. Shut up, I thought, flinching as she cried out again. I shook her, over come by the heady scent of her pain in the air. God, just...shut up. Shut up. Shut up. _Shut up._

I tore into her throat with more ruthlessness then was strictly necessary while Aro watched on in amusement, and Jasper in horrified hunger as he held his breath, every muscle pulled taught with tension. Control, I struggled inside myself. I could fight this, this cold rush of needwantneed that washed through me at the thought of blood. I was lost to it, but I knew the way. She bled into my mouth, but the taste was bitter with failure.

God Swan, I thought. Can't you do anything right?

This isn't what Alistair would have wanted.

I blinked, lifting my mouth from the gasping, dying woman, hot blood staining down my throat. This...this wasn't what _I _wanted. Oh, there was no denying, I wanted the fucking blood, needed it with every desperate part of my being. But I didn't want to be a monster. I didn't want to be like this.

With my eyes locked on Aro, I _vanished, _taking with me my scent and sound.

It wasn't easy; vanishing took up much of my mind. As did feeding. To combine the two, I felt split. A tremor of tantalizing fear ran through Aro, so thick I could taste it, could feel the fear coating my skin in the air. He shuddered, eyes narrowed at a spot where I was no longer. The girl was dead, blond hair sticky-wet with red, as she sprawled out cold and blue-lipped on the floor.

Here, I thought, there was nothing. I was nothing. Here, in the nothing, I was not a monster. I breathed deeply, clearing the blood-lust away from my mind. I was clean here, clean of his influence, but even I knew I couldn't hold it. Couldn't keep myself in the nothingness for long; I couldn't hide forever. But I could hide long enough.

I could feel my feet sticking in the cooling blood, painting a foot-print trail on the stark marble floors. Aro tracked them, as I raced across the room, sprinting up to brace myself atop one inset arches where old-fashion, dungeon-inspired sconces glowed brightly. His hands swept out where my feet stopped and he snarled when he caught nothing.

"Come out, come out butterfly," another voice said from the doorway, and there was Demetri, leaning casually as ever, eyes trained upward. "Where have you flown to?"

"Demetri," Aro snapped at once, kicking aside the blonde girl on the floor. The boy that accompanied him, with the dark brown eyes and copper skin shivered as he was tugged forward. His teeth flashed white against his dark and I felt strangely horrified at the prospect of hurting him. "Darling, Bella, this behavior is most unbecoming. Come dear," he said, with gleeful menace. "Finish your dinner."

His blood was smokey, but earthy, very much like a forest fire, as Aro carved a long line in the boy's cheek with a flick of his thumb nail. I felt myself fall from the nothing, dropping to the floor fully visible as the boys face crumbled. "Bella."

"Jake,"

**A/N **Don't forget to check out BRIG! See how Alistair became a vampire! Dude. It has pirates. And mutiny.


	23. Chapter 23

**Hit and Run**

**Author : Lifeless Lyndsey**

**Summary : After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life**.

**Pairing: Bella and Alistair**

**Warning: M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know.**

**Word Count: 2,220**

**Disclaimer: I own nearly nothing , not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!**

**Beta'd by: MsEerieChastain**

**A/N Sorry it's been a while! I know, I know! And the worst part is that this story really does not have all that much left, but I hope that what I do bring you, you love! **

**BELLA**

"Fuck, Bella, what did they do to you?" Jake rushed forward, stumbling and bleeding, and it was all I could smell that blood, like pine and wintergreen. He smelled like home, like the time before, and I could almost remember, almost feel it, even if the only thing really familiar about him was his face. I knew that I knew him; that I loved him, in a way, and the rest was inconsequential.

"Don't," I hissed, teeth bared, and nostrils flared. He smelled no better than any other blood, but that in itself wasn't promising. I wanted to rip into him like I had the others, there was no fucking doubt. Knowing him, loving him, it didn't fucking matter. I wanted to _drain_ him. "Just...oh God," I felt my gut clench as the drop of blood slid down his jaw and neck, like time slowed, inch by inch, painting a slow delicious line of red that lead right to his jugular.. "Jasper..."

"Fight it," Jasper hissed, his own lips curled. He wasn't breathing, that much was obvious, and it was clear that much was killing him. His eyes were flat black with my blood lust and his own, venom glossing his lips. "You can fight it. You don't want this. Fight it, Bella! Control!"

Aro and Demetri laughed, at me, at Jasper. "You think she can? You're a fool."

"She can," Japer said roughly. "She must learn control. Even you cannot deny this. Without it, she's useless."

"I can't!" I _snarled, _feeling my feet move as I stalked him, circled him. "I _want_ him," I growled, eyelashes fluttering. "Jake..."

"He's your friend," Jasper whispered. "He's a person, you know him, and you know his family. He's not prey. He's a person. That's what Alice used to tell me, when it got to be too much."

Clenching my eyes shut, I cut off all my senses. It hurt to do so, left me tingling and antsy. "Jake...I-"

"If you don't kill him, butterfly, we will," Demetri sang, and I hissed at him, venom-spittle flying. "We won't even feed on the beast, oh no. We'll _kill_ him. Perhaps we'll let you watch."

"Don't you want to save him, Bella?" Aro asked, eyes wide and taunting. His mouth was pulled into a wicked smile, eyes as red as rubies. He'd already fed, and had no intention of draining Jake for the sustenance, no. "Don't you want to save him a painful death? Kill him Bella. You can make it quick, almost painless. Do as I tell you. Don't think of it as bad. It's a mercy kill. Do it, darling. Give in."

_Do as I tell you. _

"No," I moaned, backing up against the wall. My body ached for it, coated in blood already, cold and warm all at once. "No."

"You will do as your master bids you," Demetri laughed. "Oh, yes, you will. We'll break you, little butterfly. Pluck those wings right of you. Just like every other newborn who comes through here. We'll break you baby Bella-"

"If you don't feed from _him_," Aro warned, eyes flashing as he cut Demetri off with a quelling glare, "you won't feed at all."

Chest still and breathless, I glared at my captor. "I won't hurt him."

"Then you'll starve," Aro said loftily. "Demetri, grab the boy."

Jasper's look was unreadable as he spoke. "...would it not be better to leave him?" He asked, and I very nearly gasped, pain exploding in my chest, the ache of betrayal. "Maria often did as much with her more recalcitrant soldiers. She may fight now, but it will not last."

"You've certainly changed your tune," Aro replied, with much accusation.

"Not so much. She must learn," he said simply. "While I do not approve of your ways, I would rather see her in control."

"And leaving her to kill her friend?" Demetri pondered. "I do not understand."

"With Maria," Jasper said carefully, never meeting my eye, "when a soldier killed a member of its family, it often became more compliant lest we find another. As I have said, I do not approve of your methods, nor your desire to _own_ Bella, but I wish to see her in control."

"Hmm," Aro hummed, tapping his finger to his chin. "Leave the boy. If anything, perhaps our little Bella will be less quick to disobey me."

The door clanked shut behind them, and Jasper was in action, rushing forward towards Jake. "No!" I snarled, lurching forward. "You won't hurt him. I won't let you."

"You'll kill him," Jasper said solidly," if you don't let me help. Jacob has to phase. In wolf form, he will not be as appetizing."

"You..."

"They would have killed him," Jasper said quietly, turning to Jacob. "Have you phased yet? I cannot tell."

"Yes, for a while now," Jake replied, his shoulders already shaking. "But I can't fight all of them myself, even in wolf form."

"Don't worry about that," Jasper said urgently. "Phase. She needs to breathe, or she'll panic. Once the blood she's taken in has time to settle, she'll be less quick to want to drain you. Then you'll explain how you came to be in Volterra, and captured."

I hadn't even thought to ask what Jake was doing here, so caught in my blood lust. It certainly merited some thought. I hadn't seen him in _two years_, so why now?

Jake did as he was instructed, exploding into a ball of pain and fur. He fell to the ground on all four paws, lips pulled back to bare his teeth as he lowered his head.

"You didn't...I thought you betrayed me," I whispered, holding out my hand. Jake sneezed at it, but allowed my touch. His fur was rough beneath my palm, and he smelled horrible. "I thought you wanted me to kill him."

"No," Jasper replied. "But I knew Aro would listen. I can't get you out of here, and eventually they will kill him. But this, at least, has bought us some time."

"I wanted to kill you," I murmured, falling to my knees and hugging Jake close. He sneezed again and I figured I couldn't smell any better to him than he did to me. I hadn't seen him in years and it hurt to finally reunite like this.

"Don't feel guilty," Jasper said, with a shrug. "You did very well, all things considered. But it's in your nature to want to feed; you can't spite yourself for it. The fact of the matter is that you didn't. That's progress."

"But it's not enough," I said, in despair. "Even if I escape, I...there's no way..."

"No," Jasper agreed. "They're really isn't."

And I knew the look on Jasper's face read hopeless, for that was all I fucking felt.

_Hopeless__**.**_

_**ALISTAIR**_

To my rare surprise, the church in which they held the girl captive was located nowhere near Tower Volturi. Instead, we found the church to be a dilapidated bloody mess as far from the Volturi nest as possible, while still in the city proper. The raven and rose stained glass shone with ominous pride in the pale moon light, casting an eerie rainbow of reds on the churches few worn steps.

"I can't hear anything," the boy said, eyes narrowed at the tall double-doors. "Nothing. It's silent. How is that possible?"

Rolling my eyes, I spat at him in disgust, venom staining his pretty-boy shoes. "This is Aro Volturi, you are speaking of. He collects gifted vampires like humans collect stamps. Think on it, boy. How many to his guard? Do you know? Do you know the numbers he keeps? Hundreds. Hundreds of gifted Vampires, and you are surprised that at least one of them would be a shield? Do you really think so highly of yourself that your gifts could not be matched?"

"I...I've never come across any one who could keep me out, save for Bella," he managed to say.

"And you really think she's the only one?" I asked, pushing up the step. "You think she's the only person, human or vampire a like who can keep you from reading their mind? That is possibly one of the most bloody ridiculous things I've heard out of your mouth." Shaking my head, disparaged with Carlisle's youth, I took the first crumbling step. "We cannot know what Aro has in store, only that he has held a grudge against me for one-thousand years, and he has no doubt pulled together his best."

"Do you really think so highly of yourself that Aro Volturi would amass an army of his most gifted vampires just to capture _you_?" The boy replied, darkly. The human stood beside him, heart hammering in her chest, but wisely said nothing.

"I do, actually," I replied quite blithely, pulling a curved bleached bone knife from my bag. It was short, blade and handle carved from the same medium, slightly curved and surprisingly lethal. It glinted in the moonlight like crushed oyster shells.

"What...what is that?" Little Boy Cullen asked, but part of him knew, part of him could sense it. He reached out, but I did not stop him, even as he brushed the pad of his thumb across the blades edge. It cut, as I knew it would, and he hissed, drawing back sharply, black rivets of blood welling at this finger tip. "That's...how?"

"I carved it from the jawbone of my sire," I replied in a quiet growl, for speaking of the man had always had such a reaction. "From the head of Aro's first-born vampire, so I am told. So you can see why the man would be eager to capture me." I'd never told a soul that, and for good reason. There were many who were faithful to the Volturi, but as Carlisle's son, I thought that perhaps the boy was not one of them.

"You killed his son," he replied, incredulous.

"To be fair, he killed me first," I replied, if only a tad protestant. "He changed me and abandoned me, a crime punishable by death. Aro would see him go without punishment and me beheaded for thinking it. One rule for the ruled and one rule for the ruler, as always. I did nothing wrong."

"I suppose you didn't," the Seer said at length. "How long ago this must have been, to have been his first born."

It wasn't particularly a question, but I chose to answer none the less. "Nigh a millennium, I suppose. But as we are timeless, so are our grudges."

"A thousand..." he tapered off, blinking. "I thought you said he'd held his grudge as long as a _jest_. There are so few of you left. How near are you to the First Borne?"

I snorted at his improvement inquisition, but understood. "Oh not near at all, I would think. The First were around for as long as I and then some before they ever changed a soul, so I am told. But of Aro's years, I am third generation. For all intensive purposes, he is my grandfather." I gave him a moment, before turning back to the steps. "If you are done..."

"Of course, I apologize, now isn't the time," he said at once, contrite and obviously embarrassed. A child was he, and always would be, so I spared him his faults of eagerness if only for the moment. Now was not the time to be irritated at his way. He would be, in only moments' time, my brethren of what I was sure to be a very small war. I'd accept him in that, if nothing else.

We left the girl alone on the steps to meet whatever fate may find her. She had marked herself for death the day she'd let herself fall in with Aro and his clan. The boy hadn't been so keen on the idea, but I had a different girl to save, one for which I was sure he would not attest.

"How deep do you think she is?" he asked me, quiet as a fly's wing. "I can't get a read at all. Can you tell? Can you sense any vampires?"

I focused, pushing at the edges of my mind, but I sensed nothing, a nothing so calm I was sure that it was shielded. "Vampires no," I replied, readjusting my senses till something caught, vague and ordinary. _Shoes_, I focused myself on the trivial article, letting it tap against my awareness till the position was sharp and _known_. "But there are six shoes; three pairs, I assume."

"Shoes," the boy repeated, blank and blinking. "That's just..."

"Rather useful, I would think," I replied mildly, and before he could speak further, I kicked in the door.

**A/N I guess I should just say for the record that I decided wolves didn't smell bad to Vampires. It wasn't confuctive for my story, and like Cartman, I do what I waaant. Sorry about that, if it upsets you, it's just a little tiny annihilation of cannon detail. **For those of you who haven't, I suggest you read Brig, for this to make complete sense. It also kind of explains what Alistair was doing with the jaw in the first place. I'm just kind of fascinated by the possibility of vampire weaponry, and don't you think vampire bone would work? You could like, carve it with more bone, and smooth it with venom or something. I don't know. It just interests me! lol


	24. Chapter 24

**Author : Lifeless Lyndsey**

**Summary : After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life**.

**Pairing: Bella and Alistair**

**Warning: M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know.**

**Word Count: 3,800**

**Disclaimer: I own nearly nothing , not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!**

**Beta'd by: MsEerieChastain**

**A/N Okay, so I angsted over this chapter because I kind of wrote myself into a wall and went all****Deus ex machina (just learned that word through a shitty review!) with Jake. But I think I'm back on track now! The next update will not take as long, promise. It's just...it's so close to the end, and I hate ending fics. It makes me a sad panda.**

**Previously**

_"How deep do you think she is?" he asked me, quiet as a fly's wing. "I can't get a read at all. Can you tell? Can you sense any vampires?"_

_I focused, pushing at the edges of my mind, but I sensed nothing, a nothing so calm I was sure that it was shielded. "Vampires no," I replied, readjusting my senses till something caught, vague and ordinary. Shoes, I focused myself on the trivial article, letting it tap against my awareness till the position was sharp and known. "But there are six shoes; three pairs, I assume."_

_"Shoes," the boy repeated, blank and blinking. "That's just..."_

_"Rather useful, I would think," I replied mildly, and before he could speak further, I kicked in the door._

And now...

Alistair

!#$%^&

The air was still in a way it could only be if occupied by nothing; stale and unmoving. They had been waiting in stealth, then. As the door swung open at the force of my kick, dust clouded the air, thick on our tongues. It was as I suspected; three vampires sprang forward in an unpracticed rush. I grabbed the Cullen boy by the throat in an impromptu measure of control. It would not do to lose my hand at cards by the first play.

"Touch me and I kill the boy," I castigated, forcing the boy to his knees. I could tell he was panicked by the betrayal on his face. Stupid boy; did he truly believe I had any scruples left? So few I had, and none for him; what few lingered, lingered for the girl, at any rate.

A bright eyed vampire with short cropped hair snarled back at me, stalking forward with a lumberman's gait. "What do we care?" His partner, a slender blond with breasts that would have thrown her over board and kept her afloat all the same, grabbed his arm shaking her head sharply.

"Promise-child," she fulminated, pointing a long finger at the Reader. "It's a Cullen; look at his eyes. It's the Mind Reader, the one Aro covets."

"We still cannot let you pass, Pirate," another brayed, her face young so young it danced dangerously along the lines of an Immortal Child. Her eyes were wide and too spaced, ill-matched with her small mouth. She was a _beautiful_ child yes, but unsettling to look at. Like an Unseelie; pretty in package but quick to feast upon your newborn babe. A moon-child, mischief maker; she was a china doll made of razor blades. I knew I would do well to be leery of her. For it was that of which we are least wary that oft cut the deepest; this I knew from personal experiences. "His death is more prudent then the reader's life. Take off his head as the Master ordered!"

"Try it and I'll take off his," I thundered, bringing my other hand to the reader's jaw. His mouth snapped at me, and I let my nails bite into his untested flesh. The guards attacked in tandem, crouching deep and springing forward upon me like feral, dancing cats.

The boy's head came off like a daisy top, and I let it bounce and roll away at once. After that, the brute went first, a master of strength and no more. He fought dirty like a new born till I tore his arms from their sockets with one solid kick to the middle. Clamoring, he snapped at me, teeth bared and wet with venom. In a dodgy move worthy of only the wicked, I kneed him in the golden doubloons, twisting his head off as he fell to his knees in the most mortal of pains. My own jewels twitched sympathetically.

It was better this way, really. It did not serve me well to put the Cullens in hot water with the Volturi. I had too much respect for Carlisle to send him home half a son for betrayal. If his head was off, he was hardly complacent in my acts. Hopefully he'd have the good sense to take his head and leave.

Letting the brute's head drop, I kicked it aside, making my way to the toppy blonde. She had the look of a dockside whore, all painted up and tempting in dark light. I realized as she took a scratch at me, long nails scoring across my cheek, what these Vampires were. They were Aro's _bait_; little strength, no power, but perfect to dangle before the fishes. A woman to bring men, a man to bring women, and a child to lure them all.

The little tart hissed and spit, fighting with no real skill but with a woman's determination (a dangerous thing in it's own, of course). I took her leg off first, sending her ass over kettle with one solid kick to the chin. With a firm growl, I let her be; turning to eye the remaining child.

She was as I first concluded; the largest threat, albeit in smallest form, in the room besides myself and perhaps the reader. She was old, though in numbers I could not say, but she carried herself as the olden did. A kitten in looks but with claws of a tiger; she knew how to fight, I knew this without quandary. The tender line of her slender arms would hold not a delicate strength but a surplus of deadly force. No bites to her either, save for her Sire's mark. She was too oft' underestimated, that much was clear.

Lucky I, that I rarely underestimated anyone, save for maybe my own girl. Such is life that we learn from our mistakes.

Moving like a cobra she drove forward first, giving me not but a moment to side-step her tiny assault. Her elbow caught me, sending me slamming against the old stone walls, rocks crumbling from the ceiling where impact had fissured the cobble.

We fought hard, she and I, well matched as we were. With she well-fed and I well-practiced, it was more of a dance than the battle it should have been. She spun and twisted, leaping out of my reach at every turn. And though she landed no blows herself, the fight quickly turned to stalemate. I could win, but not without risking too grievous an injury to continue and I had some journey ahead of me. She didn't belong with her reject companions and I wondered... "Does Aro know?"

Faltering, I caught her at the mouth, knocking her jaw crooked on her face. With a palm and a push, she forced it back, eyes narrowed and distrustful. "Know what?"

"What a prize you are," I preened at her, as her steps slowed. "You're more than bait. Why do you stay?"

"I'm immortally eleven," she replied in a soft hiss, inching around me in a circle. "I cannot be without coven. Where would I go?"

I couldn't beat her, oh no, but I could _bribe_ her. It be the way of a cornered pirate, a fall back if you will. I wasn't above it by any means, and it was certainly easier to play the last of your cards then be without your head. "If I offered you an escape, would you let me pass? Would you tell me what awaits me?"

Her eyes widened, but her mouth narrowed. "I am loyal to Aro."

"No one is loyal to Aro. You believe you have no escape because he told you so. You're young but smart; if I offered you a place to go, would you tell me what I'm up against?" Even without the benefit of the mind reader, the information would serve me well. Yes, this could work nicely.

There was hesitance, but only a scant passing of it. "Yes." Her betrayal took a heartbeat, though we did not have one to spare. "The newborn is four floors down. Four vampires stand guard on each level, no powers until the fourth. However...there is a vampire with her in her rooms; his eyes are gold but his skin is scarred. You cannot beat him; no one can. Aro has his mate or the vampire would not be here at all."

A baited, deadly Cullen? "He won't be a problem." Not my problem, certainly. But I had heard tell of Jasper, the veteran Empath. He would be an ally; I did not doubt this in the slightest. Especially with his mate held captive.

"My freedom?" she asked, lilting voice coming out in a whispered. "Pirate-"

"You're freedom comes with my victory," I retorted, with a lecherous grin. I wasn't a pirate for nothing. "You want freedom, you fight for it. You've already betrayed your master, and you cannot kill me; there is no turning back for you."

Her answering smile was cruel but decidedly admiring. "You tricked me."

"Aye," I agreed. "Tell me what you know. The more you tell the better chances you have of escaping here."

"Corin, Alec and Jane guard the fourth floor down, alongside one other who is more muscle then merit," she explained, her delicate voice teeming with false innocence. "He's the runner. Aro does not expect him to be needed."

"Not with Jane and Alec about," I murmured in agreement. They would certainly be a challenge, but perhaps I could go around them. "Tell me, does he expect anyone to break _in_?"

"They believe you too coward," she said, smiling wider at my disbelief. "Aro believes that not even the girl could sway you to endanger yourself, and yet here you are. He does hope, I suppose, or he would not be so cautious. There are guards on the outside; spies meant to be looking for you. Aro will most likely be awaiting your arrival."

"Nothing I had not expected," I snarled in reply, a plan forming in my head. "Tell me, how is it that you gain your information, little Fae?"

"I'm not _just_ bait," the girl said, fishing the Mind Reader's gasping, hissing head from the pile. She lifted it up like a prize, causing me a moment's fleeting worry. That hadn't been my plan though I had no time for further concern. The head scowled at me, hissing wordlessly, as his vocal chords were somewhere yonder, still attached to his twitching body. As it would seem, beheading did not hinder his abilities.

"Athendora made me as a gift for Caius; a pretty little bed warmer. I'm not even the first. He is well known for liking them young and tender, and I am the youngest in the castle. Aro was most put out with Athendora when I was born, very nearly killed me himself. But Sulpicia too, is fond of me, and Aro does dote on the wives." Her smile was wry, but her eyes were _haunted_. She wasn't young, no; she'd been here a very long time. "I wish Aro _had_ burned me. Caius, Sulpicia, Alec, Felix; they pass me around like a pipe."

Anger curdled hot in my belly, new rage lapping over the old like waves, enough to fill the ocean. "I'll kill him." For every crime I'd committed, and my crimes were great and plentiful, never a child. Never a child.

"I suppose if you do, you'll have my eternal favor." She paused, head tilting to the side, child-like and eerie. I did not care for the young immortal, for they were walking contradictions of the deadliest nature. "If you wish to win his favor, tell Marcus that Aro killed Didyme, and used Chelsea to bind him to the Volturi. That's her gift; she can sway loyalty. He is already doubtful."

At last, we were getting somewhere. This battle would not be entered blindly; I'd found the treasure in sparing the little beast. "And why not sway yours?" I asked, less impatient now with each bit of information. All that would serve me as no information was non-vital.

"I am a _child_ to them, though in years I am older than many. Unlike Jane and Alec, I have no power and am therefore weak. They see no threat and therefore no reason to question my loyalties," she explained, lifting the Cullen's head up to hers to examine him as one might a Faberge egg. "No one before has offered me escape. The Volturi know that I am quite trapped here."

"How do you know all of this?" I queried, eager for all I could learn. Aro knew I had breached his walls; if he had not sent his men after me now, he would not. This game was mean to be played at length, it seemed. I could only surmise that he wished me to win the battles, but not the war. He wanted me injured and helpless by the time I found my girl. He would not be alone, that much I could surmise. As it was, escape would be prerogative, followed by Aro's most brutal death. Never let it be said I could not prioritize.

"As I said," she replied. "I am seen as a child, if I am seen at all. I am easily overlooked and hear much." She looked up, licking her lips. "You haven't much time. Only Aro will know of your impending arrival I should think, by way of his spies. The others will not know you approach unless he has told them. The girl, her shield blinds us all. But should she drop it, they all will know you are here."

"My girl?" I asked, astonished. Magnificent then, as I knew she would be. "Very well. Can you tell me more of who guards the fourth floor? Who is Corin?"

Suddenly, her small mouth twisted into a feral grin. "Corin, for sure, she's been sent to keep your girl content, should her shield fall. Be wise Pirate, and kill Corin. She keeps the wives beneath her powers. She keeps them complacent and content. From what I have learned beneath Caius, they are prisoners in their own home without knowing any wiser. Free them, and earn on your side two furious women."

"An army's worth of rage, I am sure," I agreed, considering my meager options. A glimmer of hope shined from beneath a heap of troubles. "Are there many of you? Captives?"

"Yes," she admitted, eying me from her small distance. "But I think what you should be asking is how many are willing to fight?"

**BELLA**

**!#$%^&**

Hours had passed in tense silence before I felt calm enough to speak and not breathe. "Phase back now Jake," I said tightly, teeth clenched so hard they should have broken. "I need answers."

Jasper shot me a concerned look, one that went wholly unwelcome. "Are you sure?"

"I'll hold my breath," I growled, tearing the runner of the ostentatious table that adorned the room's center. "Jake, _phase_."

He whined, low and throaty, sliding around Jasper and as far from me as possible. The air shimmered with a rainbow of light as I watched the quick procession of changes Jake made from wolf to man. It was disgusting to say the freaking least. The hair melted away leaving pink skin which gave to raw muscle, always shifting and changing and molding as bones broke and grew and reshaped in a matter of seconds. He shook out the last of the changes away at his finger tips, lifting his head. His eyes were as I remembered, through that fluffy cloud of death "Bella."

I could hear the growl in his voice that wasn't really there and it made my skin tingle but I shook it off, intent to keep from killing the only face I remembered. "Jake," I breathed out, but not in. "Jake what are you doing here..."

"I followed your trail," he said, as I tossed him the table runner. He eyed it warily, no doubt for the smell, before balling it up and holding it against his unmentionables. "You were all over the news Bella, for weeks. They said you were dead, that..." he took a deep breath. "But then some guy said he thought he saw you in Italy, and I knew, I _knew_ it was Vampires. Anyway, after weeks, I found your scent and followed it, and it brought me here. I had no idea what to do, but then I scented one of the Cullens. That's what I was doing when they found me; looking for the Cullens. I thought maybe they had you, or could help me, or at least answer my questions. I never believed you were dead."

"You shouldn't have come, Jake," I choked, closing my eyes. "Why would you come? After everything-"

"How could I not?" he cut me off, shaking his head. "You ran away, Bells. You didn't even say goodbye. I've been looking for you for years. This is just the first break I've gotten."

I blinked at him, frozen in place. "Years?"

"Since the day you left," he swore. "My resources were limited of course. But Charlie's been putting out APB's and running your name weekly. You've stayed out of trouble."

I laughed, sad and sorry. "I haven't even...I wasn't even in the states. I have a job; I travel. I write...travel guides. Charlie was looking for me?" Charlie. I could almost remember his face. He had brown eyes, just like I used to, and a mustache like Burt Reynolds. Mostly I remembered how much I loved him and how damned disappointed he was in me. Fuck. _Charlie_.

"We never stopped," Jake breathed, shaking his head. "And Charlie knows Bella. He knows about the wolves, and the vampires. He married Sue, you know? A few months ago. They kept moving the date, hoping you'd come back."

I wish I could have cried. It would have felt a hell of a lot better than what was going on inside of me, at any rate. "So...he's happy?" I bit out, shaking.

"As happy as he can be without you Bells," Jake said sadly. "It was an accident he even found out about us. We didn't know he was at Sue's house and...well. Seth was coming home and Charlie heard the howling. Shot Seth in the leg, and Seth freaked and phased human. Gave Charlie a bit of a scare but...after that he had to be told."

"So he knows about the Cullens? About..." Oh man. If I weren't dead, I'd be _dead_. Charlie didn't want me riding a motorcycle; I couldn't imagine his feelings towards me dating a vampire.

Jake snorted. "Yeah he wasn't really impressed. Bella... We have to get you out of here. You have to come home."

A hysterical bubble of laughter escaped me. "Go home? _Go home_? Jake do you have any idea what I am?"

"Of course I do!" he snarled, nearly dropping his crotch-guard. "But we allowed the Cullens to stay! And this one said it wasn't a Cullen who changed you so the treaty is intact!" I eyed Jasper who looked away carefully. It was true, the Cullens hadn't changed me, but good ole' Edward had managed to sink his teeth in me at least once in the end. It was probably better if that detail went unmentioned. "You can hunt animals and...come home. We'll protect you."

"Vampire! I am a vampire!" I screamed, all that newborn bubbly rage building up inside me. "I don't need your goddamn protection! I am a newborn vampire! Do you know what that means? I want to _eat_ you Jake! And you smell like a deep fried ass-sandwich, to be frank. Can you imagine what I would do to Charlie? I can't go home Jake, I can't. I have no control."

"We can help you," Jake pleaded, his dark eyes wide and worried. "The Cullens, they can help you, can't they? They owe you that much."

_God_ and how I did want to go home. It tugged at me, clawing its way up through my insides. Alistair had told me once that a newborn Vampire woke with two instincts; to feed and to go home. A dangerous combination, to be sure.

Shifting awkwardly on his feet like my longing was a physical force, Jasper spoke. "The Cullens will help of course, should we escape. You know they're there for you. You can trust them to protect you."

"Do I? Can I?" I asked, feeling truly bewildered. I knew nothing of the sort. "How do I know that? I don't remember much, Jasper, but I remember how badly I can't trust them. I remember how badly it hurt when they weren't there. How can I trust them? No..._no_. I want Alistair." That bastard had better be on his way, or as soon as I could, I was going to hunt him down myself and put my foot so far up his ass he choked on my fucking toe socks. Just as quickly as he came to mind, I hissed, "I can't trust _anyone_." He had taught me that, Alistair, and he had been right.

Jake looked hurt and Jasper looked like he could feel it, wincing sharply. "You can trust me, Bells. I've always been there for you. You're...my best friend. You were there when I needed you... I want to be there for you."

Turning away, I couldn't look at him; I picked up another one of Aro's rose vases and sent it crashing against the wall. "I can't trust you to hurt me Jake. And you'll need to. I'm...I'm sorry. This is pointless, I'm trapped here; we all are. But you can escape Jake. You're fast enough, right? Could you get past the guards?"

"I have no idea how many guards are even out there. They brought me through a tunnel, beneath ground. I think it might have been the sewers," he said seriously. "I could run it, if I waited for daylight, but I won't. I won't leave you here. We have to get out. We _have_ to."

Raking my hands through my hair, I bit back on a breath threatening to escape. "_You_ have to. I'm dead Jake. I'm a lost cause. You need to cut your losses and get your ass out here before _I_ eat you."

He hesitated, skin already shimmering. "I'm coming back. With help, Bella. I'm coming back."

Shaking my head, I snarled at him, teeth snapping. "Go! Just _go_."


	25. Chapter 25

**Hit and Run**

**Author : Lifeless Lyndsey**

**Summary : After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life**.

**Pairing: Bella and Alistair**

**Warning: M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know.**

**Word Count: just south of 3k**

**Beta: Mrs EerieChastain – the only hands beside mine to ever touch this story.**

**Disclaimer: I own nearly nothing , not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!**

**A/N**Tried to make this chapter a tiny bit longer. Finally, my Piratey Muse is back. Working on Chapter 26 already. We might not hear from Bella for a bit. Can you guys believe we're at the end? I need some Vamp-Bella/Alistair interaction! And slaughter. Lets not forget slaughter. Speaking of which, this chapter gets gory. Be warned.

"Take this," I gruffed, shoving the hilt-end of my short, curved bone blade into her surprised hand. "Use it wisely."

She held it up, her fingers careful of the knife's edge, and eyed it with an almost morbid curiosity. "This smells like Aro," she commented, wrapping her hands around the smooth handle. It looked massive in her little hand, glinting and all the more menacing for it.

I grinned at her, the wicked thing beside me. "Yes, it does."

Pushing past me with delicate ease, she cast me a dark smile. "I'll just go ahead, shall I?" she asked, pointing to the staircase with the knife's tip.

"You have a plan," I inquired, watching her cock her head to the side like a curious dog. I held little faith in others, but I'd allow the little vampire the benefit of the doubt if only because she knew the lay of the land, so to speak. Still, I would not doubt her for double-crossing, and watched her closely.

"I cannot place them at all. However your girl's shield works, it is most confusing." She nodded, turning her eyes toward the descending stairs. "They know you are here but not where, and they won't suspect me. Listen closely, pirate, you'll know when to make your move."

Descending the stairs carefully, I waited to follow suit 'til I heard her voice carrying up the stone corridor.

"You have to help me," she cried out, shrill and terrified. "They ran! The guards left with me. The pirate...he's coming. He's coming! And he isn't alone! Please, you have to help me!"

"Whoa, slow down," a deep voice said, coming closer to where I was tucked away in the stair-case. "Who's with him?"

Silence stretched on for a moment before the terrible skin-crawling sound of flesh being cut open -_vampire flesh_- filled the air. I knew that sound; I had personally handcrafted that sound from the bones of my own sire. It rang like church bells to my ear. "Me," the little fae said quite clearly. "Pirate!"

Rushing the stairs, I sailed into the room in a blur of pearly white. There were four, as she predicted, though one was quite magnificently gutted, and in the slow process of being beheaded with a very short knife. One hand still clutched in the Cullen's hair, head bobbing as she sprang for attack, she let loose a feral kitten's growl, and continued her meticulous hacking. The vampire had no chance as every time he grappled for her, she slipped and spun easily from his fingers.

The other three were still quite fledgling, but no less lethal with it, their eyes bright and freshly fed. Two men, one woman, with matching faces. They were a family; it was clear in the shape of their mouths and the cut of their cheek bones. They'd been made together, and moved with the fluidity that screamed at me familiarity.

"The family who betrays together stays together," I offered with a rakish grin, as the shorter of the brothers took the first swipe, sharp claws slicing through the curve of my jaw. It stung, venom welling in my mouth almost instantly. I spat it on the ground, never taking my eyes from the trio. "And by that of course I mean no heads will roll should you consider siding with I."

"We are Volturi!" The taller of the men snarled at me, mirroring her siblings' battle-stance. These were not untested bait, as I had slaughtered only moments before, but trained Vampires who fought together, and fought together well.

"Fae," I said slowly, just as she finished hacking her way through her vampire's meaty neck. Thick, black blood like tar coated her front, smeared down her chin and throat where she had bit him.

Wiping the blade off carefully on a clean spot of her dress, she smiled almost daintily. "I'm ready," she said, as the other circled us. The mind-reader was still hissing and spitting, clutched quite covetously in her knife-less hand.

They attacked in triplicate, each one moving to complete the other's action. It could only be compared to poking at a three-headed snake and praying you did not get bitten. Fae took her swipes, careful and calculated, each one sliding through the thick hide of our foe, but they mostly went unhindered. Each time I manage to sink my own claws into their flesh, another would be there, prying me off. This was not a battle to be won with hands, no. This fight would be dirty.

"Fae!" I snapped, feeling her small form at my back. "Knife!" She gave me a mostly distrustful look over her shoulder while sliding the knife _through_ my hand

" Go for the sister," she said, almost benignly.

I bit back my wince, as I ripped it free from my flesh. "Right little darling you are," I glowered, readying myself to take the plunge. Contrary to her word, I did not go for the sister. I went instead for the larger of the brothers, sinking to my knees even as he lashed out at me. The knife sliced the Achilles tendon as easy as butter, sending the hulking man crashing to his knees.

They were not strong without partner, and not a one knew what to do when fighting without another. The fae had taken on the girl, leaving the last of the brothers alone. He made his attack, springing onto my back to sink his teeth into the meat of my shoulder. I smashed him against the nearest wall, just enough to jostle him off me. Jumping forward, I crouched over the fallen, digging my knee into the small of his back. "Fae! Take her jaw off!" I castigated, yanking the vampire's head back to expose his throat. I pressed the blade of my knife against his neck, hard enough to sink an inch deep, his dark clotted blood already beginning to drip against the cobbled floor.

The vampire who had managed to sink his teeth into me did not attack again. He was frozen in place, as my companion sank her tiny fingers into the jaw bone of the sister, tearing it free from her face. The woman gurgled, oozing bubbles of black sludge-thick blood already spitting from the gaping hole in her face. The rip was not clean, jagged tears of flesh running down her throat. Her tongue was gone, as well as her half her neck. It left her esophagus exposed, fluttering and contracting with ever pointless gasp of breath. It was a ruthless move and a tactical one as well.

Knife still poised over my own vampire's throat, I watched as the little fae held the jaw like a prize, as she had done with the Cullen's head. "What do you want me to do with this?"

I looked over at our one unharmed foe, who still stood frozen against the wall. "You'll be wanting that back yeah?" I asked, earning only a nod in response. "Then you will earn it. Fight with us for your freedom, and that of your siblings. If you do not, and we fail, she is dead. Aro will not welcome the drama that is a vampire unable to feed. What say you?"

"I'll help you," the vampire agreed at once, ignoring the agonized cries of siblings. "But what about them?"

"This one," I said, yanking the hair of the vampire beneath me, "can fight. His leg should be mostly healed by now. You're sister is unfit. Send her away." I stood, watching the fallen vampire stumble to his feet. He spit in his hand, rubbing the venom into knife-wound. He said nothing, merely shook out his leg and held his place.

"Away where?" The vampire asked at once, looking only slightly frantic. "Volterra is our home. We know no one outside these walls."

"Fae! Show her the head." She lifted her bounty up, shaking it a little. Cullen glowered, still spitting. "Scent this. You're looking for its corresponding body. Upstairs you'll find the rest of the Cullen Mind Reader. You would do well to stay with him," I ordered her, and she glared in reply.

"Helena," her brother seemed to plea. "Please do as he says. If he wins..." The girl shook her head, blood spilling out of her still, in slow, seeping lines. "You have to go."

Growling in irritation, I took the jaw from the little fae's hand, fingers biting into the wet flesh and roof of her mouth. "I've no intention of coming back for you. However, the Cullen is the son of a friend of mine, one who would be most remiss were I to leave without all his pieces. It would be in your best interest to stay with him, but it's no skin off my teeth if you don't."

The bigger brother pleaded now, neck wound mostly healed. "Helena..."

She nodded awkwardly without her chin, stealing way toward the staircase. My fae companion paid no one any mind as she gathered her skirts to secure the Cullen's head to her waist. "I have a feeling I'll need both my hands for the next round," she said reasonably, catching the knife as I threw it back at her. It cut the webbing between her thumb and forefinger and she huffed. "I suppose I deserved that."

"What did he use against you, Ilana?" The unharmed vampire asked the girl, head cocked to the side. "You have no family here. You are close to no one."

She smiled at him, full of blood-stained teeth. "You're right, I'm not."

"Enough chatter," I snapped, turning my eyes to the next descending stair case. "What can you pair tell us about what awaits?"

The larger of the two spoke. "There's four of them for sure. We don't know them personally, but I'll wager at least one or two are gifted, but with what I couldn't tell you. They're all males."

"Are you simply ignorant in your youth or does Aro truly have you that well trained? Chauvinists, the lot of you." I knew better than to underestimate women, but it seemed my coerced companions had yet to learn that lesson. Snorting, my eyes flickered towards the fae child whose look was nothing short of murderous. "I'll think you'll find that amongst vampires, there is no more delicate a gender."

The third level of this hell was as had been expected. Four male vampires, though which two were gifted was yet to be determined. As before, the child led our expedition, leaving the men behind in wait.

"Ilana, what are you doing here? You're suppose to be on guard-"

"They're dead," she sobbed, and I could only imagine the picture she painted. "All of them. They're dead. He's killing them all! It's _horrible_."

"The pirate?" her vampire questioned. "Where is he? The newborn's shield has all our senses cut. We can't hear a thing outside the room."

Interesting I thought; her shield was more complex than I had imagined. Leaning forward, I descended the first step, testing he limits of the girl's gift. Was it sight based? Could they neither hear nor smell me before seeing me? But then, I could hear them, so that couldn't be possible. How did it work? What were its limits? Perhaps it was proximity based? The closer to she, the higher the shield? How far did it stretch? Clearly it could encompass others but how did she control it? So many questions, and every one would wait 'til I'd seen this to the end. Only more reason to end it early, really.

"I don't know!" the fae wailed theatrically, gasping little hiccups escaping her. "I ran ahead for help! You must come, you must help them!"

"Yes, yes of course," the vampire responded immediately. "Elijah, Dante, cut the pirate off. Claudio, get Jane-"

The brothers raised their hands in question, lining up beside me as we descended down the stairs. They entered before I, welcomed and trusted. From the bottom stair, I spied upon their chaos. Without the possible double-cross I had expected, the brothers headed for the vampire racing toward the stairs, detaining and beheading him with frightening ease. Claudio had never had a chance against them.

Stepping out from the stairwell, I lashed out on the nearest of the vampires. His gift was easily learned; he froze me in place, gluing my feet to the ground with little more then his mind. The effects lasted only seconds and he wasted no time tumbling me to the ground. Far larger than I, he pinned me quickly, locking his fingers into my skull for beheading.

With haphazard aim, I slashed at him with the severed jaw still clutched in my hand, the make-shift weapon of teeth cutting open his cheek from mouth to ear. He cried out in pain, flesh hanging loose on his bones, jagged and torn. In his moment of panic, he released his grip on me, and I sent him sprawling backwards with one rough kick to the middle.

"What the hell is this?" an olive-skinned vampire asked, eying the brothers in rage. The child stood before him, curled into the protective cradle of his arms. His hands were so clearly familiar to her body; I could not help but seethe. "You betray us so freely-"

"Actually Morris, they didn't," she said, turning in his arms. "But I did." He looked down in confusion, his red eyes widening as she gutted him, thrusting my knife into his stomach and pulling it upward. His midsection gaped, intestines spilling out onto her feet. She kicked them a side, hissing in pain as his fingers latched onto her throat. With one swipe of the knife, he lost his hand too.

My own vampire rushed me again, this time prepared for my retaliation. I crouched, grinning up at him. "Dante or Elijah?" I asked, twisting out of his reaching arms to kick his feet out from beneath him.

"Dante," he said with his own answering grin, gluing me in place once more. He slammed against me when I did not move, hands grappling for my head again. Gripping it more firmly, I aimed a sharp upper-cut with the jaw, scraping a layer of flesh off his chin with my hit.

Once free from his grip, I circled him quickly, growling. "Do you think I could behead you with this, Dante?"

He stopped his attack, eyes flickering to his fellow vampires. Elijah was done-for, easily decapitated by the brothers, his body tossed beside Claudio. "Please I-"

"You what?" I asked curiously, tossing the jaw from hand to hand. I was sure with enough effort I could decapitate him; I'd done it before. "You want to live?"

"I want out."

"Dante!" the fae's Morris growled, ripping the rest of his intestines out to keep from tripping on them. He threw the immortal child across the wide room, paying no mind as she slapped against the stone walls. She rose, looking even more angry at her mistreatment, and I pitied poor Morris in that moment. "Do not betray your Master!"

"I want _out,_" Dante growled, gluing Morris in place. He vampire's rage turned to fear as he struggled to free himself from the floor. "Do it," Dante said, eyes turning to the girl child.

"Dante-"

Her beheading was swift, and she kicked aside his body. "Gather the heads," she barked out. "We bring them with us this time. We don't want them putting themselves back together."

Both Dante and the brothers looked to me, much to my amusement and her irritation. "Do as she says," I snapped at them. "Heal your wounds and quickly. It would be a pity to keep Jane waiting."


	26. Chapter 26

**Hit and Run**

**Author** : lifelesslyndsey

**Summary**: After a car crash in the middle of nowhere, Bella is faced with yet another force in her life. Left on the ground in the middle of nowhere, in the rain, crying after a painful and crushing blow to her life. But this time, she gets up, and meets the man that will change her life.

**Pairing**: Bella and Alistair

**Warning**: M for language, lemons, violence, gore, questionable content, swearing, and other stuff, maybe. I don't know.

**Word Count:** 9,951

**Beta**: MsEerieChastain – she's been with us from the beginning. _(And it's been one hell of a ride. ~MsEC)_

**Disclaimer**: I own nearly nothing; not the characters, not the Bella, not the England. I do, however, own the plot. The plot is mine! Mine Dammit!

**A/N **So basically, I could make a lot of excuses for not updating for like, nearly a year. And I have some good ones. Some are honestly even seriously legitimate. But mostly, I just lost my mojo. Anyway, this is it. The grand finale.

If it's been a while for you guys, I'd suggest reading through it again, or at least the last chapter. Even I had to read the whole thing again, to write this. Anyway. It's been fun. It's been real. I hope I've made Alistair a character you all can love. SM certainly didn't give him much.

There WILL be an epilogue though. Too much to tie up, you know? I promise I won't make you wait a year for it either. Maybe a month at tops. I got stuff going on. Seriously though, at the end of this, feel free to tell me what you want covered in a PM. I'll do my best!

Also, this chapter is mostly Alistair. I figured you guys preferred him anyway. Enjoy!

**ALISTAIR**

**! #$%&**

We were a rag-tag group with too few gifts to brag of. My own were of no consequence here; offensive where defensive would have suited better. It interested me, however, that it was only the mental gifts stifled. Dante's talents still left me glued to the floor; it had been a physical manipulation of my body. It was a possible disadvantage I had not considered. Alec's particular gifts were mental manipulations, I was sure of it, but Jane...

"Fae." I snapped my fingers at the little girl, and pointed at her with the jaw. "Jane's pain, is it a physical pain?"

"Well," she blinked at me, just a slow flutter of her lashes. "You certainly feel it, if that's what you mean to ask." She was a pretty, menacing mess, covered head-to-toe in black blood as thick as tar. In her hands, she still coveted both my knife and the Cullen boy's head. "I can say with no uncertainty that she can only target one victim at a time, however."

An interesting enough bit of information, but not nearly what I was searching for. Shaking my head, I found myself growling, irritated and impatient to be done with this bloody disaster. I knew without a doubt that Aro awaited me, unknowing that I'd been pulling stones from his dynasty. There would be few pleasures greater than watching it crumble. "No. I only wondered whether or not it was a physical or mental manipulation. Are you actually in pain, or do you only believe yourself to be?"

One of the first-floor brothers scoffed at me, lips curled in a disgusted sneer. "What should it matter? It _hurts_."

Huffing impatiently, I resisted the urge to hit the fool. "Because his particular gifts were not inhibited by the newborns' shields," I snapped, pointing to Dante. "Which means only mental manipulations can be blocked. If Jane's gifts affect not the mind but the body, well, one of us will be taking one for the crew, I should think." Looking to the first-floor brothers, I picked the one who hadn't managed to get a hit on me; the weakest. "Buck up boy, 'cause I think it shall be you."

"What?" His eyes bulged, fear fluttering across his pale face. "Why me? No! I refuse."

Dangling the jaw, I pinned him with a hard look. "No, you don't. I chose you because you are the slowest, the dumbest, and the weakest. The others are best left for bigger fish. You are bait, pure and simple, so do as you were made and distract the bitch. Let the real vampires take to the fight."

"I'm real-"

"You're nothing more than a grunt, a minion! But even pawns have their place. If Jane's gift cannot be stifled by the shield, you _will_ act as distraction. If you don't, you do not simply forfeit your own life, but all those around you and more. Your pain for your freedom; your _sister's_ freedom. This price, surely you can pay it?"

Under the withering glare of his brother, the vampire caved. "Aye. I can do it."

"Good, then you'll be leading."

Heads in hand, we proceeded toward the stairs, freshly healed wounds still wet without venom. There were five of us all told; a pirate and four turn-coats. The irony that I would lead them to their mutiny was not lost on me. But tell me this; where in all the worlds can you find a bigger hypocrite than a pirate? You can't, I guarantee you that. So even as I lead them astray, I felt not a morsel of guilt for it.

For me, this was about the endgame; the girl.

The silence was eerie, the total lack of senses leaving me with a sense of drowning. No scent, no sound, no taste; the lack left me feeling decidedly human and perhaps slightly vulnerable for it. Not enough to keep me from pressing forward however. I let my own gift press outward, eerily void of actual bodies. Instead, this time, I counted cloaks, those pompous gray things Aro was so fond of for his favored leeches.

They were there, all four of them, as we suspected. This time we did not deploy the child's diversionary tactic, instead barreling through the doors with little more than the advantage of surprise on our sides, that and our better numbers.

The littlest of them, scarce bigger than the fae-child, and familiarly blonde, pulled her mouth into a sneer. "We've been waiting for you, Pirate," Jane said, voice lilting and calm. "But not you," she added, eyes trailing over my motley band of mutinous companions.

"Aro thought to weaken him," the fae said, nodding to herself. Her own mouth curled into a smile. "As for us, well. Not even you can keep us content here, isn't that right _Corin_?" she asked a willowy, dark-haired vampire. "He sent you here to work over the girl, didn't he? But you couldn't-"

"Quiet, Ilana," Corin snapped, bright eyes flashing.

I caught what the child had done of course, carefully naming the vampire for my benefit. This was the one we wanted, it would seem.

The fae laughed, tossing back her head with dark mirth. "I've already spilled your secrets, Corin," she said, licking old blood from her lips. "He knows what you do."

"Four betrayed you," I said, as I suddenly realized just exactly _why_ so many had been so easily swayed to betray the Volturi. This vampire, this _Corin_, could not keep them under her spell here, where the girl's own gift smothered all others. They were coming out from beneath her spell. Did Aro know? He couldn't.

Didn't they know they were powerless here?

"And they will pay," the nameless vampire offered, eyes narrowing. I waved him off. Bigger things were at play here, beyond even that of the girl.

Young Cullen had known the girl was a shield, so surely Aro did. And for all that I spited the man, I could not call him stupid. He would never send her here. No, she was far too important in the grand scheme. Aro knew, but that hardly meant his minions did. No, he'd keep them ignorant to avoid chaos. Corin did not know of the girl's gift. Which could only mean one thing.

"You shouldn't be here."

Her expression was one of confusion and indignant; Corin's eyes flashed as she lifted her chin. "I have orders," she replied simply. "Aro requested my presence."

Doubtful. "Directly?"

Faltering, Corin's face pulled into a frown. "Of course not. I was at the tower-"

"Which means his Majesty is _here._" Interesting, but nothing I hadn't known myself. But Corin had spilled the information, which meant even her own loyalty was beginning to fail. "He's probably rather close to the girl, as well. Who sent you? Who carried Aro's word?"

"Master Cullen," Alec spoke, his voice calm but curious. "Isn't that what you said, Corin?" His eyes had lost their ruby glow, glistening black instead. He wasn't hungry; he was bloody _pissed_.

I frowned. "Edward Cullen sent you?" Surely the boy would have had the forethought to tell me as much? Then again, I couldn't bring myself to put much stock in his particular intelligence.

"No," Alec shook his head, and ignored the quelling glare Corin shot him. "Carlisle Cullen."

Carlisle was here, and he had sent Aro's own fail-safe into the lion's den.

Good old Carlisle. He clearly knew something I did not, though that hardly came as surprise. Miss Brandon must have had a vision. Safely tucked away as she was, Aro never stood a chance of knowing.

"I did not know Carlisle was in residence." I had expected him of course; his children were here, after all. But the girl's gift had left me in the dark.

Alec nodded. He'd taken two small steps forward, closing the distance between us. There was no threat to it, simply a subconscious gesture. Corin's lengthy bindings were growing more loose with every moment.

Most curious is that they hadn't noticed the utter silence. "Fae, what do you hear?"

The little one frowned. "I don't hear anything."

"Right you are." This had gone on long enough. We were talking, when I was ready for a fight, and surely, surely that was a sign. The pair, Jane and Alec, were not known to be so reasonable. The confusion was evident on Jane's face, even as her eyes fell back to the fae. "Four have betrayed you, and silence reigns."

"They will pay," Jane snapped. "They will pay for their disloyalty." She looked perturbed though, as if she couldn't quite possibly believe the betrayal. As if it didn't quite make sense to her.

"No," I said harshly, shaking my head. Surely such back talk would deserve a shock from the little pain slinger, but none came. I'd heard of vampires being punished beneath her for less, and smirked. "You misunderstand. Four have betrayed you, right under your nose, Corin. Do you not understand? The girl is a shield; that nothing you hear, that would be her. You were surprised when we burst through, though you expected us. You were _surprised_."

Corin sucked in a long, sharp breath. "I shouldn't be here. I can't be here. Tower Volturi-"

"Will crumble," I growled, through a smile. "Who shall crumble with it?"

At that Jane snarled, head cocking to the side. I felt nothing, but there was no doubt she had thrown her powers at me. "No," she hissed, stepping back. Alec clutched at her, fingers curling over her arm, and pinning her in place.

"The Pirate is right; I've been hitting him with my gifts for several minutes, to no avail. The girl is a shield. We've been deceived," he said, eyes flickering to Corin. "Worse yet, we knew it was happening, and did not care."

"Aro wouldn't-" Jane begin, but Alec cut her off with a vicious snarl.

"We were deceived," he snapped again. "Can't you feel it? Do you honestly wish to return to Aro? To be his doll, his pretty bed-mate? Don't believe the lies Jane, not now, when you don't have to. You were never anything more than a weapon to him, a weapon and a plaything. I'll fight for you, Pirate. I'll fight for my sister."

"This is madness," Corin whispered. "Aro will kill you all. He'll tear you down-"

Alec looked at her, with wide, incredulous eyes. "With what army, Corin? I have absolutely no desire to bow down before Aro. How many more will be like me? How many stayed beneath your care? And the wives! What will they do now, that your gift is stifled?"

Fear was a beautiful thing, I thought, seeing the look of terror flash before the bitch's eyes. "We're all going to die."

It was so perfect, so utterly beautiful; they didn't know. Surely this was a boon from the gods themselves? I laughed, straight from the dark pit of my belly, I laughed at them and their presumptions. Aro put too much stock in his treasure chest; all it took was one girl, created of his own design, to turn his gold to brass.

"You really didn't know," I replied, holding my position at the stairs, Dante and Elijah behind me. The bait was cast out before me. He was as jumpy as a land fish, but I knew should the time come, he'd take our hit. If Jane's gift worked, he'd step before the fire. "Surely you're not surprised that your dear Aro kept you in the dark about the girl, about her gifts? Carlisle lied to you, Corin. The guard falls. Do you not feel it?"

"Feel what?" Jane asked, irritably. She shook her head, like an irritated horse against a fly, and flinched. I could not help but wonder just how much influence Corin was forced to pour into Jane, who I had no doubt was treated exactly as the Fae, even with her gifts. "I don't feel anything. Enough of this!"

"Exactly," the fae hissed, before hauling off and punching Jane square in the mouth. The girl went reeling, slamming against the stone walls. It cracked and fissured behind her, bits of rubble skittering across the floor, echoing in the sudden silence. "See? You have no gifts here, Jane. Aro's army is worthless now. Those who do not turn against him are useless here, where the girl stands heart, blinding us all. Your king falls."

It was a lie of course. There were gifts, such as Dante's, who still worked beneath the shield. The vampire in question twitched his hands at his side, ready to leap much to my amusement. So quick to turn, they were, without Corin's hold over them it seemed. "How much sway do you hold, child?" I asked her, smirking. "What havoc the tower must be in without you? Can you imagine it? And where will they take their anger, but to the heart of it? They're coming for Aro, Corin. They're coming for you."

As cowards do, she spun on her feet, eager to flee and alert her master when the most strange and delightful thing happened.

It was a werewolf, to be sure. It smelled like the inside of a scurvy-mouth, and barreled through the door with little warning. The very door Corin had sought to escape. She stood no chance, as he tore through her, snapping and snarling, foaming bloody at the mouth. Her body was ripped apart with so little effort, it frightened even me. These beasts were born enemies of the Vampire, made for our destruction. Alec, Jane and the other backed away in terror, their backs pressed against the stone wall.

They feared this lone wolf, and even I was not stupid to dismiss him. However, I had an idea as to his identity; Jacob, the friend wolf. One wolf against eight vampires was no fight, and yet they cowered. He wouldn't stop for us. No, his mission was to run, perhaps rally forces. He could not know that we were it, his army standing. This I knew with little doubt, though it seemed I was the only one to draw such a conclusion. The little fae sprang into action, giving me nearly no time to catch her. But catch her I did, right around the middle. I threw her against the wall, and ignored her protesting grunt. It wouldn't do to injure our ally.

"An ally," I snapped, pointing at the beast. He snapped, snarling viciously. "You're here for the girl. As am I." Lowering himself to crouch, the wolf growled, a deep, wet rumble tearing out his belly. It occurred to me that it might do to elaborate. "My name is Alistair, and I've come to rescue the girl. Unless I've missed my mark quite terribly, you're one of the Washington wolves she spoke of. Jacob?"

The beast lifted its head, drool siding from its jaw to pool on the ground beneath him. I watched with no little wonder as its fur melted way to muscle and skin and flesh. A moment later, before me stood a young man, naked as the day his mother shat him out. "Bella had a lot to say about you," he intoned, towering over my lot. Even Jane and Alec seemed terrified of his ilk, to my endless amusement. "The others said you wouldn't come."

Mouth curling into a vicious smile, I could not help but feel smug. "Well, I live to surprise." I paused, tapping my chin in thought. "I have a job for you, young Jacob. The vampire you have just so very thoughtfully demolished held in her power a large portion of the Volturi Coven. Her gift was one of contentedness, and now that is gone. The Tower will be in chaos, but there are allies to be found there. Carlisle Cullen is in residence, and he'll want word of his children. I hear his coven and your pack have...a friendly understanding. Might you take it?"

"It would be my pleasure." To my surprise, the boy smiled, and even his grin was wolfish. "You know, Jasper Whitlock seemed mighty eager to see his wife. Maybe I'll just pop over there and see if she's free?"

"A splendid idea. Will you be needing back up?" I could hardly spare the troops I'd gathered, but if it meant more were to come, I'd sacrifice the whole bloody lot.

"Nah," the boy shrugged. "I'm sure I'll be enough. Those pompous little leeches have probably never seen the likes of me." With that, the air began to shimmer, melting him back to his wolf form. He barked, a loud, resounding sound that made every vampire cringe.

"Oh and Jacob? If you find yourself meeting Marcus, let it be known that Corin is dead." They'd come for Aro, or they'd run with their tails tucked between their legs. Either worked for me; it was Aro I wished dead. I watched him go, a smirk splashed across my own face. "If I had known it would be this terribly easy to bring you lot down, I'd have done it centuries ago."

"Without the girl?" Alec asked. "You'd have lasted a minute at most. What do we do now?"

There were few options of course. The bloody wolf had burst through the door, and we had been none the wiser to his presence. More would follow. "Be on guard. They'll come for the wolf."

"Pirate," Jane began as we took our stance, spreading out through the room so that none might pass. "You've taken Ilana under your guard. Like she, I am only a child. I cannot fend for myself without...without..." Her face twisted into something dark and vicious. "Aro made me as I am: too young for the world. I will follow you regardless, but...what am I to do after today is done?"

"I've no help for you girl; I don't take strays, and I have no patience for Volturi cast-offs. Carlisle Cullen has a fondness for children, him and that darling wife of his. Theirs is a particular diet, but should you not desire to take their ways, he'll find you a place. You need a strong hand, someone to keep you in line." She scowled at me, but I grinned. "I'd suggest Zafrina, of South America. Hers is a gift to trump yours." Zafrina would put both Alec and Jane in line. Alec could snuff the senses, but Zafrina...she was a masterpiece even Aro feared. She could make you believe you were Hell; the Devil's own fire licking at your feet. The fae could go to Ireland; I owed the girl a boon, and I'd see her somewhere comfortable. Maggie would adore her, I was sure of it.

Before any of the little turn-coats could respond, a single vampire poured in from the smashed door. We were poised for attack, and the win was expected at eight to one. However, what the lone vampire had to say came as a surprise, though perhaps it shouldn't have.

"Aro is in the antechamber, outside the girl's room. He sent me after the wolf, but I let him pass. The Empath and Demetri stand guard, and the girl grows restless. I suggest if you were planning to make a move, you do it now."

The vampire was unfamiliar to me. An imposing fellow, nearly as wide in the shoulders as he was tall. "You must be Felix," I regarded him warily. I had heard tell of him; without gift, but so substantially strong, Aro had kept him anyway. "Stand aside, or stand down, I care not. Either way, Volturi falls today."

Felix lifted a brow, and cocked a smile. "You seem to have amassed quite the little legion here." He eyed the others with vague curiosity, pausing at Ilana. To my endless surprise, she squirmed uneasily. Her gaze flickered between myself and Dimitri, but it lacked the vitriol hate it had held when she'd spoken of Caius, and the others. There was a story there, but it was not one I was bothered to know. "I'll stand with you."

"Take your place with the other turn-coats then. Fae, the underground tunnel that connects Volturi to this church - where does it empty to?"

She smirked, black blood still clinging to her teeth. "The antechamber outside the Lady Swan's room. We might wish to press on, or we'll miss the really good fights."

The turn-coats were growing restless, mouths pulled back into snarls, venom dripping from their mouths in constant flow. Their eyes were all black now, just as Alec's had turned when Corin's gift had been lifted. They were furious, and growing more so with every minute. While anger here was more than expected, this seemed unnaturally accelerated. "What in the devil has gotten into you all?" I hissed, watching them twitch and tense.

Felix bent down, collecting Corin's head from the corner it had rolled to. "This one's gift came with the added bounty of addiction. Without it...they'll suffer withdrawal. I've seen it before. The first side-effect is anger, followed by a blood-lust that has nothing to do with hunger."

"How fantastically convenient for me," I reflected, wondering at my total and utter fortune.

In the end, our hurry was pointless. The church was empty of anyone. "Where are they?" I snapped, looking at Felix for any sign of deception. "If this is an ambush, it'll be your head first, boy!"

"They must have taken the tunnel back to the tower," Felix replied, staking a wary step back. "If he thought we'd amassed any sort of troops, he'd take to safety. They can't be far if the girls shield still affects."

The fae was already pulling the trap door open. Laughing darkly, she waved her hand toward the tunnel. "It would seem that we've flushed the toad straight into the snake's mouth."

"If anyone's the snake, it's Aro," Jane growled. Her anger was wrought upon her face, an unholy gleam that boded well for no one in her path. Even without the benefit of her gift, I believed her ruthless enough with hands alone.

I took the rear, uneager to leave my neck exposed to any of the lot. "That's the thing about snakes. You make them hungry enough and they'll eat their own tail."

"What are you saying?" Felix asked, turning his head as we raced through the tunnel.

Snorting, I gave him a dark look. Clearly he was bred for brawn and not brain. "Aro was so hungry for power that he amassed an entire guard of the most talented vampires in existence, and bound them to him with tricks and lies. How much of Volturi is built on lies and duplicity? Their eyes have been open. Those who have left their ranks, and betrayed, did so because of his own perjury. Those who once championed him will cut him down."

What we found when we arrived at Tower Volturi could be described as nothing short of Pandora's Box. Aro's sins had been released unto a world not quite ready. The tunnel had dumped us unceremoniously into a dingy, dark hall, but the fae had wasted no time leading us to the throne room. By the time the tower had been breached, most of my band of merry maggots was rendered nigh mindless, so wroth with their fury. There would be no tactile dictation here; they were simply out to kill, and their target was clear.

That rat bastard Aro had made his home in a nest of vipers, yet still I knew he'd be surprised when they turned to bite him.

I spared a moment to mourn the opportunity of killing Aro myself. However, there was a sort of sweet justice to know that the hand he held high over all others would be the one to cut him down. My priorities been taken by the most unforeseen paradigm shift imaginable, at any rate.

My only concern here was finding the girl.

**BELLA**

**! #$%&**

Jake's departure set in motion a series of events previously unexpected. Aro burst in, looking terribly livid but also ridiculous in his stupid robes. "Wretched beasts," he snarled. "In my city! Werewolves! I thought I destroyed the lot of them-"

"Shape-shifters," Jasper corrected, mouth curving up into a truly frightening smile. "They're not lunar wolves. They can shift at will, any time they wish. And from what I understand, the angrier they are, the easier and faster they shift. Of course, it helps if they're in the presence of a vampire or two...or two hundred."

Pausing mid-rant, Aro frowned. "_That_ was one of your American wolves"

"Leader of the Quileute tribe, actually. Biggest, baddest wolf they've got. And he's very angry with you."

"Whatever for?" Aro looked truly perturbed by this, as if he couldn't fathom a single slight against Jacob. Aro had tried to feed him to me, for fucks sake. The man was a pompous idiot.

Tilting his head toward me, Jasper shrugged. "He loves Bella. I'm guessing he came overseas when she went missing, and tracked her down. I've never seen a better scent tracker. It's probably a coincidence he stumbled upon the Volturi."

Aro paced, looking back at the broken door. "If he's so in love with dear Isabella, then why run?"

At that, I couldn't help but laugh. "He's _one_ wolf; he isn't much good alone. But his pack is huge. If he brought them..." I let myself trail off vaguely, though I knew without a doubt that Jake had come alone. "There were ten of them, last time I counted."

"Demitri," Aro snapped at his guard. "Gather our things. We'd be better off at the Tower. Major Whitlock, secure the girl. There isn't anywhere she could run to safely in the underground, but I'd rather not have her running off at all."

The underground was a narrow, cloistered hall lined with crude bricks and probably as old as the city itself. Rats scuttled across the floor, and water trickled from the cracks. It was too small, and I felt as if I couldn't breathe. I wanted to run. I _needed_ to run. Too small. Couldn't breathe. _Oh God_. I wasn't safe here. It wasn't-

"Stop," Jasper ordered, as gently as he could. His fingers curled over my forearm, and that only seemed to spur my worry further. I knew without a doubt he was floundering without his gift. Once my shield was up, it seemed, I couldn't pull it down again. Pity, because I could have used a dose of the good stuff, right then. "It's fine. You're fine. It's okay-" He must have felt it, even as it was happening. My skin shimmered, though there was no light to make it shine. It welled up in me like an overflowing glass, 'til I was ready to burst and spill. It wasn't safe here; I needed to run. To hide. "Hey, no. None of that. Bella? Bella don't run. _Bella_-"

But I was gone already, slipping from sight. His hands grappled for me, but I evaded, working myself past him, Aro, and Dimitri with swift ease. "Go after her!" Aro barked, and Jasper did as ordered, but probably for his own benefit, rather than Aro's. The underground was little more than a series of twisting halls, but I followed the thin trickle of fresh-air, until an exit appeared.

What I found was total and utter chaos. A woman, more beautiful than I had ever seen, towered in the center of a vast, round room. Her pale hair was matted with blood, and in her hand she held a head. I watched as she lifted it up and spoke to it. "Your betrayal ends with your death, Chelsea," she snarled, brushing the skull between her palms. It imploded with a crunching, wet, squelch, and she tossed it aside like a deflated soccer ball. "Now, where is that rat I call a husband?"

"Last time I saw him was over there!" I called out, pointing back the way I came. There wasn't really any proof she heard me; she was already headed that way anyway. I was rather rabidly fascinated for all of two seconds. Something else, something far more interesting had caught my eye, just outside the chamber.

_Cullens_.

"Corin's death certainly explains this mess. I had no idea how content she was keeping the castle, but...look at them. They're zombies of their former self. Drug addicts often lash out violently. Esme, find the children; I'll find my brother," Carlisle said, kissing Esme. They were in a little drawing room, though it looked as if it had been ransacked. Vampires, snarling, growling; betrayed vampires roamed the halls, lashing out at all that crossed their paths. I had no clue as to what had them in such a fuss, but I _really_ hoped it was my fault. "Thank you Jacob, for carrying Alistair's word."

Jacob grinned, unabashed in his nudity. If I had a body like that, I probably would have walked around naked. Actually...I did have a body like that now. Huh. "No problem doc."

Jacob...the silly boy had run right to the vipers nest. Of course he had, that was Jake. He'd sought out his enemy for my sake. Jake had always had my back; it was nice to see a thing like immortality wouldn't change that. Ah, but the Cullens... They were exactly as I remembered, though those memories seemed so far away now. Them, I did not care about. But Carlisle had spoken of Alistair.

"Bella!" I spun around to find Jasper watching me with wide eyes where I skulked outside the drawing room. How long had I been viable? I felt as if I'd never really get a handle on my so-called gift. It was embarrassing, is what it was! I fluttered in and out of existence like a freaking candle flame. Why couldn't I just stay invisible! "You can't run! It isn't safe-"

"Alistair came for me!" I snapped, twisting out of his reach. I knew he wasn't putting the full smack down on me, too wary of the other, angrier vampires lurking nearby, looking for a fight. "I have to find him!" With a twist, I escaped him, taking off barefoot down the long, twisted hall.

Alistair had come for me! I _knew_ he would.

I needed to find him of course. No one else stood a better chance of springing me from this joint. As alluring as the idea was, I couldn't simply leave; even I couldn't understand the depths of my blood lust. Just thinking about it made me _want_, my throat burning like a Phoenix summer day. Hot and dry, I remembered that. But Alistair could take me to the ocean. He had to; he took me, after all.

That made me his; I was sure of it.

I _remembered_ that.

Though, for all that I was determined to find him, I wasn't suffering any illusions. The bastard was a man with priorities. Alistair...for all that he had come for me, he was here for Aro more. He wouldn't lose the opportunity to take the sucker's head off. So, if I wanted to find Alistair, I had to first find Aro.

I wasn't sure what I was looking for; I had no sense for tracking. Every single thing pulled me apart, breaking me in tiny moments. The air, the light, the cracks in the stone. My own sparkly hand. Plus, I kept catching sight of my eye lashes, which meant I looked up, only to get distracted by the damn ceiling. Apparently, without the constant diversion of blood, everything else was just terribly fucking fascinating.

I found his robe first, cast aside on the floor. His scent was cloying and dirty. Or at least, it was to me. Following it further down, I was surprised at the travesty it lead me to. Bodies, in various stages of rot, littered the ground. Some of them I recognized as my own kills and it made me want to puke. I was pretty sure I _couldn't_ puke but the desire was there. They'd been discarded, cast aside like a dirty napkin. The rancid stink of them nearly covered up the scent I'd searched out, but knowing that Aro was down here was enough for me.

I found him first, pressing his palms against a false wall. It opened for him with a dull scraping sound, and I followed silently in his wake. Unfortunately for me, when he chose to turn, halfway down the corridor, I'd lost my handle on my invisible_ thingy _(surely there was a better name for it). Aro's eyes went wide, and he backed away.

To say that his fright surprised me would be an understatement. This was the man we were to fear? This was our damn king? Squawking at the sight of a single newborn? Apparently, without his little entourage, he was nothing more than a very old man who'd burned every shoddy bridge he'd built.

"Looks like we're all alone now," I said, scuffing my toe in the water. He took my following momentary distraction (the ripples were shiny like rainbows, okay?), to run like a little bitch. "Oh! You want to play tag?" I called out after him, laughing loudly.

My endgame had nothing to do with Aro. I was just waiting for Alistair to fucking _show up_ already.

**ALISTAIR**

**! #$%&**

It was a blood bath; I cut through the swarm of cold, stone bodies with little effort. They were zombies of their former selves, intent in their desire to slaughter, but incredibly dumb for it. The entire clan had been rendered to nearly useless addicts, jonesing for a fix, and angry that none could be found. A civil war had broken between the ranks, and now brothers killed sisters and sisters their brothers. Those that survived, they would be changed men.

Carlisle's handsom head caught my eye, and I grabbed him just as one of the mindless, angry drones had made for his neck. "Brother!" I cried, just joyous enough to hug the bastard. It had been a long time since last I saw his face. "Reaping the rewards of your betrayal? This chaos is yours."

"Yes, I had thought it might be," he said, with a tight frown. I couldn't help myself but sigh. So soft-hearted, Carlisle was. So terribly soft-hearted. "So Corin is dead, then?"

I nodded. "By accident, actually. She took to stepping in a werewolf's path. Something I'll be avoiding rather studiously in the future, I should think. Terrible beasts. He bit right through her, he did. It was a sight to see."

"So I've heard," Carlisle replied, snapping the arm off a gray-caped madman. "Her death had an unfortunate butterfly effect. It would seem that Aro had been using her particular gifts to keep the wives content. Sulpicia was most unhappy. In her despair, she beheaded Chelsea. From what I gather, Chelsea had her hand in more pots than even Corin. And Marcus! I'm not sure why he was in such a rage himself, but I think perhaps Aro's deceit runs deeper than previously imagined. And from there...it was chaos."

I followed Carlisle; he knew the temple a mite better than I. The halls were not quite void of vampire, but they were far less crowded than the main room. "Where is your beloved Esme?" One was so very rarely without the others; I imagined she was not far behind.

"We planned to gather what family we could find and search each other out," Carlisle replied, but his tone was dark. "We were...remiss, that Aro had taken such disrespectful measures. I couldn't stand aside while he played them against each other."

It was understandable. Carlisle did not rule a coven; he fathered a family. "Yes, I heard he'd used the Seer against the Empath. Quite stupid, if you ask me."

"Actually," Carlisle replied lightly, stepping back against the wall. "I was talking about Bella."

I'd never known Carlisle to be presumptuous, but his offhand comment rankled me in the most unflattering fashion. "The girl doesn't include herself in your family, Carlisle. That Edward could be so easily played by something he cast asi-"

"Actually," Carlisle said again, with a snort. "I was talking about _you _and Bella. I couldn't stand aside and watch Aro play Bella against you, brother. It's good to see you've found an interest, after all these years. But yes, Aro has certainly stepped a bit too far into my family business."

"How did-" My mouth snapped shut before the idiotic question could escape me. "Your darling Seer is a menace, Carlisle."

Carlisle laughed, pushing past an open door. The air grew colder with every step we took. We were deep below ground now. "How funny. She seems to find your inscrutable and surly nature adorable."

"Menace," I growled again. "Where in Circe's tits are you taking me, anyway?"

Carlisle stopped so fast, I slammed into him. "Aro has Bella, Alistair. If I know him at all, he'll head for the sewers as an exit. We can cut him off. "

Though the line was delivered with such grave emotion, I still smiled. It was nothing couldn't have figured myself. "So I get to have my cake and eat it too. And all because of your misdirection. You're a good friend Carlisle. I should visit more."

"Alistair-"

I cut him off. "Take me to them, Carlisle."

Carlisle sighed. "If I must. It's only that... for all that Corin and Chelsea's deaths set many free, there will be many who remain faithful of their own accord. I fear for you, should you kill their king."

"Then we'll kill their prince and princesses too, should we need to," a familiar lilting and light voice said. "We'll kill them all." The fae had followed behind us, it would seem. She stood in beneath one of the tall arches of the tunnel with a bold, determined smile. She'd been truthful when she'd said Corin hadn't bothered to sway her. The hate behind her eyes was not hallow as the others been. "I'm coming with you. The pirate promised."

Carlisle faltered, probably at seeing one as young as she. "I'm not sure-"

"That's your son's head she's holding," I informed him, just as the fae lifted it. "I'd let her come. Although, I'll be asking for my knife back now." Holding out my hand expectantly, I ignored her sigh.

"Trade me for the jaw," she demanded, even threw the blade at me. This time, unlike the last, I had the forethought to catch it before it impaled me. I tossed her the jaw with a shrug.

"You're just as ruthless as I remember," Carlisle commented, leading us on down the corridor. It was said with old fondness. There was a reason the man held the solitary title of only friend in my regard. "We're nearly there," Carlisle commented, when a hand reached out to grab him. I was there in an instant, plunging my bone knife into the slender throat of an unfamiliar blonde vampire.

"It's okay, it's okay!" Carlisle hissed, latching his hand over my wrist. "It's Jasper. It's my son!"

The knife tore at his throat as I pulled it free. He snarled at me, spraying venom and blood across my already stained face. "Bella is gone," he growled. Obviously I'd missed his vocal cords.

"You're the Major?" I asked, wiping his blood on the leg of my pants. "I thought you'd be...faster."

Jasper Whitlock snorted. "I wasn't expecting friendly fire."

"So you lost the girl, then?" They'd lost a newborn in the midst of a blood-bath battle. If she escaped...well, the carnage she could do to the city would be incomprehensible.

"She disappeared," he corrected. "Esme found her. I had holed up in one in one of the lower chambers. I can't be up there; I can't block out the chaos. So I went deep down, tried to keep Bella calm. But...she just kept getting more and more worked up. Ever since that wolf told her you were here...well. Anyway, just...disappeared. It's what she does. She vanished, poof, _gone_."

Carlisle tugged me along before I could think of searching her out. "We don't need to search for her." His tone was knowing, and so typically Carlisle that I found comfort in it. "She's looking for you."

Pushing the Major aside, I stepped forward. "Well I'd hate to keep a lady waiting."

The Seer found us before we found ought else, bringing the wolf with her. It was of course, simple chance that they'd stumbled upon us. "The stupid mutt blocks everything anyway, so even if Bella wasn't shielding the high freaking heavens, I wouldn't have seen much. Anyway, Jasper said that Aro mentioned dungeons. So I figured I'd come this way."

"What of the others?" The Major asked looking back the way we came. "Em, Rose and Esme? Last I saw Emmett, he was in the main chamber. Seemed pretty content to tear it up topside though. You know how he gets for a fight. And with everyone without any benefit of gifts? This is pretty much all his birthdays come at once."

Carlisle laughed. "We'll leave him to it. Rose and Esme are both looking for family. Most likely, they'll stay with Emmett. Alice...well, I'm sure she'll find us."

Carlisle continued on, leading us to the under chambers, so deep beneath the tower the walls were damp and the air was dank. The putrid stink of festering corpses hung heavy in the air, and it wasn't hard to deduce that this was their dumping grounds. The walls were aligned with naked bodies, their skin molted and rotting in various stages. Beneath those, skeletal remains aligned the ground, many so brittle that they crunched beneath our feet.

"This is madness," Carlisle whispered, though his smooth voice carried through the many chambers.

The Major nodded, his blond curls bobbing where they weren't matted down with blood. "Even Maria saw fit to burn the corpses. This...this is _disgusting_."

"Isn't it enough that they feed upon them? They're humans. We were human once. Don't they deserve at the very minimum, a proper death?"

The fae nudged her way up beside the good doctor. "Master Aro believed us better than them. They were cattle, like sheep to human. But I agree that it isn't so. Humans were never sheep, but us...our hearts beat once. We bled like they did. And for that reason alone, we are what we are now. Vampires are not above humans, no. We're far beneath them. We're dependent on them. We need them."

"No we don't," Carlisle said, and I could tell without a solitary doubt that the man was smitten already. The Seer looked equally charmed. It seemed the Cullen clan would grow in numbers, yet again. "You're no child."

Fae nodded simply. "I am anything but."

"Maggie will be disappointed." But perhaps the fae was better suited for a life of vegetarianism. For all that she was not young in years, she was young in body. Perhaps the benefit of parents, no, a family, would do her good. "Jane and Alec will be looking for a new coven, as well. I'd suggest Zafrina's."

Carlisle's face was nothing short of comical. "They defected? I had thought-"

"They're so young," Jasper cut him off, with a shake of his head. "Are there a lot like you?" He looked to Fae, whose face had gone perfectly blank. "How old are you?"

"Three hundred and something," she replied carefully. "But...well, I was created at eleven. There are...there _are_ more, though none as young as I."

"_Eleven_," Carlisle seethed, fingers clenching. His eyes had gone black as night, and he looked possibly more ferocious than I had ever seen. "Madness."

But his anger could only serve to fuel my fire, so I pressed it shamelessly. "He had them made as gifts, isn't that right, Fae?"

Fae's face was hard, and her smile was cutting. "To be passed around like party favors."

"This from the man you call 'King'?" I spat, then grabbed Carlisle's shoulders, and spun him to face me. "I will see Aro dead, old friend. Tell me you won't stop me?"

Carlisle's eyes closed for half a second, before fluttering open. "The Cullen Coven will stand down. Aro is not the man I believed him to be; he is far worse. It's time for a change."

In the end, we found him in the sewers, ankle deep in human filth. He'd shed his pompous robes, and looked quite naked in his fitted trousers and buttoned top. His back was against wall, and his eyes were wide with fright.

"Carlisle," he gasped, ignoring my presence entirely which spoke volumes to his terror. "Carlisle you have to help me-"

Carlisle lifted his hand. "No, I don't think so. I neither owe you no boons nor do I find myself pitying you in any manner. You've made this bed, now you lie in it." He paused, nearly sneering. "Perhaps you should have considered how you treated your allies, Aro. For now you have none, every hand has turned on you."

Aro shuddered, pushing harder against the wall. The man, it seemed, would die with no dignity. "You don't understand. She's...she's found me. She's following me."

"Who?" Jasper asked, pushing himself to the forefront of our crowd. The fae took exception to this, elbowing him sharply in the side. A wily thing, that one.

"The girl. Isabella." Aro looked around wildly as he said her name, as if he expected her to materialize right there. And perhaps she had. "She escaped and-"

"Does your little ghostie haunt you, Aro?" The fae snarled in her child's voice, and even the Major had the good sense to step aside. "Little girls. Little girls. You've always had a thing for little girls. You underestimate them. This one, this girl, she's no exception."

"You!" Aro growled at her, his terror bellied by his betrayal. "You're nothing but fodder. Bait!"

I laughed then, closing the gap between Aro and me. "When you bait your hooks with sharks, you should expect to be bitten. This particular bit of fodder took out half your men. And the girl? She's taken down your whole bloody dynasty."

A reflection in the water caught my eye, and I turned just in time to sink my knife into the neck of Demetri. His eyes went wide as I ripped the knife forward, leaving the head to hang on a thick flap of flesh. It was too easy to twist off and toss to the filthy waters. Demetri's body flailed, grabbing blindly for me. The Major sprang forward, dismembering the brute with disarming ease.

Demetri hadn't come alone. Caius, and several vampires I could not name, had come barreling forward. The fae took to Caius like a starved piranha, slashing at him with vicious determination. The wolf cut through the small hoard with wild abandon, and even the little Seer held her own. Clearly, the Major had seen her trained. Carlisle had stepped in, effortlessly twisting the female into a pinned position. "Santiago, it doesn't have to be this way. Surrender and I'll allow your escape," he requested calmly. When she refused rather violently, he tore both her arms off and left her face down in the murky waters.

When he looked up from his handy work, his eyes went wide. "Alista-"

The warning was lost on me as I felt iron hands wrap tight around my neck like bloody shackles. Blast! I'd let my guard fall. I'd forgotten my true opponent. Aro's fingers bit into my throat with no effort.

One move and he'd have my head.

Wordlessly, my knife was tore from my hands, even before I could move to use it. Aro's vice released me roughly, and I spun just in time to see my girl sink six inches of bone knife into Aro's eye socket.

I had already accepted that my fates had shifted from the moment I'd refused her death, and taken her life into my own hands. But seeing her as she was, without the burden of mortality, well...she was as I remembered, and yet, not at all the same.

The bruises once mapping her body were gone now, leaving her skin shimmery smooth, and not unlike my own. I took a moment to mourn the markings I'd painted upon her, those I'd pressed into her hips and wrists. Those were mine, after all, and they'd been taken just as surely as she had. However, their expense was worth it, for the mortal I had known was dead, and in her place stood a vampire.

She was flawless now, with her hand on the hilt of my knife, digging the blade deeper into that bastards head. If her eyes were bright with that violent fire so common in newborns, she couldn't be blamed. Her anger was not born merely of infant rage; she'd been taken, she'd been used, abused, and tortured by her own helpless, bloody desires.

Her anger was real, and ruthless, and filled with the same fiery passion I'd took note of when she was human. The girl hadn't lost that, even to her bloodlust; she knew _exactly_ why it was she was driving that knife into Aro. Dressed in rags and painted in blood; she was worth my respect and more.

And she was mine. Or so it seemed she believed so. The pirate in me could hardly turn my nose up at such a bounty. Adverse though I was to be tied to another, perhaps one as she would not be quite so terrible. It might not have been a love match, but I'd never expected as much. If I was to have someone at my back at all, who better than someone with the same desire to hide? I'd no need for frivolities and declarations. What I wanted was an equal.

And without the mortal trappings of humanity to break her, I thought the girl just might be that.

"I told you he'd come for me," she hissed, her voice different; higher, smoother, flawless. She twisted the knife, ruining Aro's eye irreparably. Not that it would matter; the bastard died tonight.

Without word, the girl dug her fingers into his shoulders, bracing him in place as I moved forward, popping his head off like a daisy flower. The others moved listlessly around us, silent as though they feared their very word would break the calm spell the girl seemed to be under.

I knew better. The girl was fine. She had found what she was looking for.

She plucked Aro's head from my hands, and tossed it to the water, taking a moment to watch it bob and float. I'd see it burned before I'd go. Perhaps I'd even leave the body to suffer. "I told him you'd come."

"So you said. I did consider leaving you," I admitted with a frown. My good sense had told me to head for the horizons and never look back. Still, I couldn't let Aro think he'd bested me. "I should have."

"But you couldn't." The girl laughed. "Pirates always keep their promises. I knew you'd come."

"Pirates don't make promises," I growled, looking away from her with a scowl. I felt...uncomfortable under the sudden scrutiny. Carlisle was watching the pair of us with an amused expression I would have liked to smack straight off the bastard's smug face.

Leaning down, the girl stepped on Aro's head, pinning it down as she plucked my knife from his eye. She handed it back to me hilt-first, and grinned. "You did. Does that make me special?"

"So I did," I grumbled, giving her a once over. "And here I am. Though I'll admit; it was a mite easier than I imagined. You're not so unfortunate as a vampire."

She was covered in the same murky water that sloshed at my feet. That and blood; so much blood. It soaked her thin dress, and painted her skin. Her hair was matted in it. Her mouth and throat were still wet with it. Her eyes were a vibrant, ruby red. She looked every inch a vampire, and every inch the ferocious, ballsy girl I had so unfortunately saw fit to kidnap, all at once. Even the smile she flashed was red. "I was told the circumstances of both the life and death of a person can effect what type of vampire they'll become." She looked to Carlisle, and even in his stunned silence, he managed to run. "All I've ever wanted in life was to be left the fuck alone. Seems in death, I got my wish."

That and more, I thought ruefully. In my many years, I had seen innumerable shields, all of vast and great powers. Hers wasn't the most vast I'd come across, not by far, but it was the most intricate. "So I hear you've been telling people you're my problem. Bit presumptuous, don't you think? Wench."

I grinned when Carlisle made a protesting noise.

She snorted, ignoring Carlisle entirely. "I'm yours. You're mine." Her gaze flickered to my shoes, and she laughed. "Hell, I even marked you with my urine. I was your problem from the second you saw me. You made me your problem."

"So I did," I echoed myself, giving Carlisle a shifty look. He was still looking between us, a fond smile dashing his face now. Even the Major had taken to watching us, his eyebrows crawling half way up his head in some sort of surprise. The fae was unabashed in her interest, eying us with open curiosity. Even the little Mind Reader had its eyes on us, hissing and spitting from where the fae still had its head cradled in her arm. I gave him a smug look, and grinned back at the girl. "If I disagree, are you going to argue incessantly until I digress?"

"Alistair, if you don't-"

Bella cut Jasper off shamelessly. "Well, of course." I had no doubt she would. And as a vampire, the speed at which she could argue now could have only increased.

"Well, what if I don't wish for a ….companion?" I'd certainly never craved companionship before. That hadn't even changed. That I'd consider taking her on as my...my...companion, was nothing short of odd.

Odder things had certainly happened though.

"Alistair," Carlisle said reasonable. His hand was curled over Fae's shoulder, perhaps as some sort of fatherly comfort, or maybe just to keep her from wandering off with the Mind Reader's head. The others had made themselves useful by gathering the vampire remains, and carrying them to dry land. The Girl's foot was still on Aro's head. Clearly we were in agreement on who would be burning that particular head. "We'd be more than happy to take Bella with us. That was your original plan, wasn't it?"

Well it had been, there for a moment. They'd certainly be more suitable for rearing a well-adjusted and functioning vampire. With me, she'd become misanthropic and possibly more snarky than before. "Yes-"

Her face flashed, eyes burning hot as coal. _That_ was newborn rage. "I wasn't asking. Did you really think I was _ever_ going to let you foist me off on the fucking Cullens? Anyway, don't pretend you're not going to take me with you. I know you better than anyone. I know what you want. I know _you_. Keep me, and you can hide from the whole fucking _world_."

"Yes, everyone but you," I replied in kind. The girl was honestly worried I'd hand her back to the pompous brat of a boy. She might have known me best, but even that was barely at all. I was never going to let her go; I'd said as much to the Mind Reader. She was mine. Still, it was better for me that she keep her worry. "You're certainly sure of yourself. Me? I'm not sure you're worth the bother."

That anger flashed again, black bleeding out into the red of her eyes. The anger was pretty; she'd fuck like a tiger, I was damn sure of it. _Promising_. Her human body had taken quite the fucking; I couldn't help but be curious what I could do to her as she was now. Perhaps-

In my distraction (my damnable distraction), she'd taken her chance. I found myself suddenly back against the wall, the bite of her teeth sinking deep into her my throat. It hurt, Circe's bloody tit, it hurt, but the shock of it was delicious.

She'd _bitten_ me. Not many could say the same. _Respect_.

"I wasn't asking," she said again, mouth black and red with my own blood. "You'll keep me with you."

"Yes, yes," I laughed, wide-eyed and oddly happy. "I'll take you with me, you _harpy_."

The girl bared her teeth, eyes strangely hard considering I'd agreed to her damn demand. "You'll keep me with you," she said again, eyes shifting towards Carlisle again, he with his new daughter, Alice, and Jasper. Those who hadn't thought to keep her.

That certainly served to sever their interests. They looked away as a collective, suddenly more interested in the shit-strewn sewers. Even the boy's head had ceased its hissing and spitting.

"I'll keep you," I agreed. And then, quiet enough that it was only hers to hear, for a man had to have his pride, and I liked mine in abundance, "_Pirate's promise_."

The End

A/N It's been fun guys. For those of you who didn't, make sure to read the top AN. There might be something there pertaining to your interest. (Like the mentions of an epilogue?)


	27. EPILOGUE SNIPPET

**A/N** Hey you guys! I hate just posting AN updates because yeah, that's dumb. So this is NOT just an AN, but **the AN is important. **

I've had a few of you telling me that the Alistair in the last installment of the movies is very much like mine, and that is awesome. How cool would it have been if the actor had used Hit and Run as an idea for his character? SUPER FUCKING AWESOME.

But anyway, I just thought I'd drop you all a line to let you know that the Hit and Run Sequel is IN THE WORKS.

Also, thank you to whoever nominated The Jaw from Hit and Run in the Fandom Choice Awards.

You can check that out, and vote for your favorites at fandomchoiceawards dot com! I was nominated for both Vampire and Wolf, and in several categories. You guys are too good to me.

Just for those of you who do not know, there is a prequel to Hit and Run, called Brig. Check out my profile for that. It's all Alistair.

**In the mean time, a snippet!**

* * *

We made our way to the main chamber, where the chaos had shifted. Aro's wife stood at the head, towering more with her presence than her height, over the rest. "I want this mess cleared! Let those who wish to run do so. Those who wish to stay, will be welcomed."

It rankled me, that she would be so quick to build a broken throne. "You're kingdom has fallen!" I called out to her, from the other side of the great round room. "You build with broken pieces."

"You," she hissed, stalking forward. Vampires scuttled out of her way. Those who were fallen, or dead, were kicked aside.

I met her in the middle, trailing my own odd guard behind me. "You."

"Pirate," Sulpicia hissed. "My husband spoke of you for man years. You were a thorn in his side, the bane of his very existence, I should think."

Flashing her wicked smirk, I denied nothing. "You flatter me."

"You killed my son." Her tone was even, almost dangerously flat.

And so I had. "He killed me first."

She raised one sculpted brow, looking regal even for all the blood and guts smeared across her luminescent skin. "This," she said, waving her hand across the room. "_You_ did this."

"Aye! I did!" I raised my hands at my side, and grinned. What vampires who were left standing turned to me, their eyes still glassy but perhaps slightly more focused now. "I, Captain Alistair Xavier Webb, did _this_. Let no man leave without knowing what has been done here! Slaughter! Mayhem! Mutiny! I broke through your walls, and brought down your dynasty! I killed your husband, your king and I'll-" The girl elbowed me sharply in the side, and gave me a pointed look. "And I had help."

Sulpicia gave me a long look, before nodding softly. "I am not my husband, nor am I inclined to make his mistakes. I stand here today as the new Ruler by right of way. Let it be known though, that following the treason of my husband, new law is in order. I will not rule as he had; I will be strict, and I will be swift, but I will be fair."

"Sulpicia ," Jasper interjected. "If I might make a suggestion. The world has long since changed. While I have always accepted that our kind does require some ruling and prosecution, perhaps it is time to embrace these new times. I have long since believed the American wars could have been avoided if only there were a more local authority figure. Territory will always be a cause for animosity between covens, but I hardly think it's uncontrollable. What I worry about is over-hunting and newborn abandonment. These our are most critical concerns. Consider, if you will, electing ambassadors? You could even give local covens a chance at electing their own officials-"

I left the Empath to discuss his politics; I had no desire to have any hands in it. I would do as I always did, and avoid the law entirely. Esme had made her way to our party, with the rest of her children in tow.

Carlisle lead the littlest vampire to her by the hand. "Esme, I'd like you to meet-"

"Fae," the girl interjected, flashing me a little grin. "Are you the Cullen Clan matriarch?"

Esme gave her a soft smile, dropping down to a crouch so that she was even lower then the Fae. It was a sign of respect, or comfort, I thought. "Well, we prefer to call it a family, dear. Will you be joining us?"

Fae looked surprised by the gesture. Unfortunately, a surprised vampire was often them most dangerous. "I'm...I'm not a child, Lady Cullen. I'm much older than you. Than even your husband, I think. While I am greatful of your offer, I'm not entierly-"

Rolling my eyes, I stalked forward, grabbing the little fae up by the arm. She fought me slightly, and Esme had her own words, but I didn't care. I pulled the girl from our group, and dropped low like Esme had. "Go with the Cullens, you horrible little child. What are you even thinking? Is it the diet? It's terrible, I will admit, but this is your best chance-"

"They think I'm eleven!" She snarled, scowling.

"You _are_ eleven." I growled at her when she made to cut me off. I was simply surrounded by impertinent woman. "No, you are. Even for all your years, and the horrors you have seen, little Fae, you are immortally eleven. I will admit that you have done and seen things that many beyond your years will never experience. That does not make you any less eleven years old. Your mind...your mind is eleven, beneath the grief and struggle to survive. You simply have not been granted the chance to be as you are. This is your chance, Fae. You go with them, and you can be eleven. You can be a little girl."

She stared at me for a long moment, before turning sharply and flying through the room. The force of which she hit Esme with was hard enough to knock her on her feet, but no one mistook it for an attack. She wrapped herself around the Mother Cullen like the child she was, and Esme lifted her up into her arms with out a single moments hesitation.

"We'll be taking this one home," she called out to Sulpicia , who's mouth pulled into a tight line, but did not deny Esme's demand.

"There are others," I offered casually, looking to Jane and Alec as they stood awkwardly by the doors near the sewers. "I was thinking Zafrina. She's known to take in strays."

Carlisle nodded. "I'll get in contact with her at once. Actually, if Sulpicia accepts Jasper's idea, I'll be nominating her for the South American ambassador. Her coven is certainly impressive enough."

"You'll be accepting the position for the North American ambassador, of course."

"No," Carlisle replied, surprising me. But then, perhaps it shouldn't. Carlisle was a family man, through and through. "I am but a doctor. I've no particularly threatening talents, nor do I wish I did. No, I don't want the power. Eleazar, perhaps. People respect him. Should he find himself needing aid, I would be there of course."

"Of course." I turned to where the girl was spinning Aro's head by the hair, looking both bored and enraptured at once. "What am I to do with _that_?"

Carlisle laughed, and shook his head at me. "Don't ask me. I'd fear for my head were I even to suggest she go anywhere but with you."

"I suppose we'll head for the sea." Conveniently enough, we could take the sewers almost directly there. I suspected the Volturi used them to cattle their feed back to the temple. "Oh look, the rest of your son has arrived."

It would seem that the Seer had saw fit to collect the Cullen boy, as well as the mouthless trollop. "Fae!" I called out, and laughed when Esme carried the girl to me. "I'll be needing those parts, girl." She handed over both the head and the jaw wordlessly, content to be...well, _cuddled_, for lack of a better word.

"Might we have that back now," one of the first-floor vampires asked tightly, holding out his hand for his sisters jaw. "We did as you asked."

"So you did." I tossed the jaw to him, and waved him off. My business with him was done now. The Cullen boy's head, I spun in my hands once or twice, thinking -in filthy English just for his benefit- of all the deliciously horrid things I'd do to the girl just as soon as I had her to myself. Newborns fucked so much like they fought, all mouth and hands and endless fury. I'd every intention of rocking our boat, so to speak. When Cullen snapped at my hand, I let his head fall to the floor, kicking it wide across the open room.

Carlisle sighed at my side. "Must you manhandle my children? Really?"

"Not all of them." Not Jasper at least, he seemed like a decent enough bloke. "I'm just not particularly fond of that one. Bit of a brat, he."

To that, Carlisle could only laugh. "Immortal teenagers; what was I thinking? But they do make life a little less lonely. I suppose you'll come to learn that soon enough."

"Speak for yourself, mine's not a teenager, she's a _woman_."

"Wow, did I just hear you call me a woman?" As if beckoned by name alone, the girl appeared at our side from thin air. "I think I'm going to miss you calling me a sandwich."

"There are new ways for me to eat you," I replied, and there was no missing the suggestion in my voice. Carlisle made a face. Ah yes, he regarded the girl as a daughter. Hmm.

She laughed, and wormed her way up under my arm. "I like the way you think, but maybe a shower first? I probably taste like this guy here." She held up Aro's head, giving it a little shake. "When are we going to toast this guy?"

"Should I be concerned about your penchant for burning things?"

"Probably." She turned to Carlisle with a blank face. "I burned your house to the ground." Looking back to me, she flashed me a smile I knew would cause me nothing but trouble. "Can we go now? I'm hungry and I want to smash things."

Watching her manhandle Aro's head, her red eyes glowing bright and violent, I realized that perhaps a reprieve from my solitary years was due. The girl wasn't the worst companion, and she'd taken a liking to me so perhaps her faculties could be trusted. "Well," I said, clapping Carlisle firmly on the shoulder. "You heard the girl. We'll be taking our leave."

Carlisle blinked, mouth pulling into a frown. "Do keep in touch."

"Don't I always?"

Carlisle's frown only deepened, as the girl and I pushed passed him toward the sewer exit. We could follow it straight to the ocean. "No, no not really. Alistair, if you could-"

The girl began to whistle a familiar tune. Yo ho, yo ho, a pirates life for me. I laughed, a dark and wretched cackle. "Yes yes, old friend. I'm sure we'll be seeing you again. You and your darling family."

(the end, for now.)

A/N You might have questions (where is jake!?). And they will be answered. Just...not yet.

Merry Christmas! And don't forget to vote Hit and Run at thefandomchoiceawards dot com.


	28. PLAGIARISM

Hello dear readers!

How I wish this was an update, oh how I do. There is, however, an update in the works right now, due to post within a few days.

Unfortunately, this is an Authors Note posted to inform you of something absolutely _disgusting_.

**PLAGIARISM. **

That's right. Hit and Run has fallen victim to this unholy little crime. I have only ever had this happen once before, and it was caught so quickly, I never had a chance to realize the torment of it. This new occurrence however, has lingered out there for several months and it literally feels like my ideas were kidnapped and tortured.

There is a lot of 'gray' area when it comes to plagiarism in the Fandom. However, ripping out entire paragraphs of a story, changing the names, and playing it off as your own-that's not gray area. That's plagiarism.

Her name is LaylaxAlistair and she's taken what isn't hers.

I ask that you don't harass her, because I** do not** condone hazing or bullying. However, if you should read chapter seven of her fanfic entitled All's Fair In Love And War, and wish to inform her that her words are painfully familiar to you in a polite fashion, this I would be fine with. She used not only Alistair's entire history, but some of Bella's as well, pertaining to the burning of the Cullen's Forks home.

I will admit that due to a tip off from a reader, chapter seven is all that I read of her story, so I don't know the full limit of her plagiarism, or if she's taken from other stories as well.

I encourage all readers to report these acts as I've reported Layla. We are the only guard against such behavior. We as a fandom, as writers and readers, should stick together against plagiarism.

I would hope that this is a mistake made in ignorance, and that this dear girl can learn from it. Plagiarism is _NEVER_ okay. Alistair might not be my character, he will forever belong to . But...the Alistair of Hit and Run, his words, his ideas, his mind - that belongs to me.

I won't be discouraged by thieves. In fact, if nothing else, it makes me want to write a little more Alistair. And so I shall. For your time, I promise you a bit of Epilogue, to post soon.

All my thanks,  
Lyndsey


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